Borgin's Box of Ideas
by dragonblade3200
Summary: My ideas for potential stories, at most a chapter or two will be posted per story idea. Any idea I have, or even if you suggest something I like, will be put here. Looking for feedback-next fic is... "The Wizard Without a Wand" R&R Please! Rated M
1. Lord Ravenclaw

AN: Ok, so like the summery says this is my box of ideas for a new and potential fan fics. If you really like an idea and want to try it then feel free to drop me a message so i can advertise for you, give you any possible plot lines or stuff i might have already, and of course put you on my alerts :p .

Lord Ravenclaw is the first up. I simple travel back in time fic with a twist. And to clarify before anyone says something: What Harry wants IS granted, but in a different way than what he states.

I personally feel quite conected to this story, as there is so much potential here that you dont see in some stories. Not only is it Harry''s story, it is also Lord Ravenclaws story. The elements i put in here give a truely plausible and even barable way to tell both their tales, even though they are the same person. if i do post another chapter for this one it probably wont make it up to Hogwarts though, past that i would probably be making it into a full time fic.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter.

Lord Ravenclaw

Chapter one:

Looking down over the field of dead, both wizards and witches alike, he was not affected. No tears stained his face, no emotion passed through his eyes, and his body stayed static. In his mind he cursed himself for becoming this, for not caring, for _not_ crying. But that was the reason he was summoning Her.

At nearly thirty years of age he stood tall and proud, wearing an all black leather outfit, made from several sources though matching and looking impeccable none the less, beneath his robe, from the skin of a Dire Werebear, and cloak, a golden fur from an ancient and powerful werewolf. Holding down his long raven colored hair was a circlet of silver, the words _'wit beyond measure is a man's greatest treasure'_ etched gently around it. Around his neck was a single locket of gold, a snake in the shape of an _'S'_ on its front. He wore only a single ring, a green stone with the symbol of a triangle, surrounding a circle, with a line going through it vertically. The last bit of metal on his body was at his waist, a wide hand and a half sword rested at ease within its sheath.

To any creature that passed him by he was the King of the Forest's, The Circle Guardian, the Last Free Lord of the Seelie and Unseelie Courts, and Head Priest of all Pagan's and any who worshipped the God's and Goddess' of the Earth rather than the Heaven's.

This man was Harry James Potter. He was Harold James Slytherin. And his personal favorite: Lord Harold Ravenclaw. He had gone by the last name for a decade now and had chosen it as the name he would take with him when he left.

Staring down at the killing field he felt nothing, just the tingling of magic. At his feet were offerings of bread, honey, milk from a mother's tit, blood, the heart of a Dire Werebear, of which's skin he now wore, and incents… Oh, he might have forgotten the naked body of Susan Bone's, glowing a pure white under the light of the full moon, who had agreed to help him in summoning Her.

It had been five minutes since they had finished the ritual, which required the woman to stay bare and offering of her loins and his spilt seed to the Mother. It had also been twenty minute's since the great battle of magic had been finished, much more time and it may be too late, though he did not doubt She would come, the chance to barter with him and collect the souls of fallen warriors was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

Sure enough he could feel the cold wind blow on his face and Susan's pant's gently stopping as time came to a stand still.

She was a most peculiar sight, jumping towards him from body to body, never stopping for more than a fraction of a second before stabbing a corpse with one of her spears and pulling out its soul with the second. Her midnight black hair that cascaded down her back flying out behind her like a cape on a windy night while the pair of black wings that protruded from her own circlet, shaped into a crescent moon on her brow, flapped with macabre joy.

Looking closely at Her he could not help but appreciate sight of her scantily clad body, with its full hips and generous bosom.

Patiently he waited for her to come to him, knowing better than to interrupt the Great Queen, the Queen of the Fey, Goddess of river's and lakes: Morrigan.

Silently he watched her, more nervous now than he had been in nearly half a decade, which was saying something since he had killed Dumbledore only three years ago.

Why was he nervous, beside the fact that he had called and now stood before the greatest goddess he had ever known of? Well, the fact that she was the patroness of witches and would not look kindly upon a _wizard _calling for her was pretty big one. The other was that he would have to barter with her should she deem both him and his offering's worthy of such. Not to mention he may not be able to afford what he needed, not even with his own soul.

Breathing in deeply he tried to prepare himself, bowing his head towards her fur boots and keeping it there as she approached him. Still looking down he watched as she planted her twin spears into the ground.

_You may look up_ she spoke, into his mind, sending a tingle of fear and erotic ecstasy down his spine. Looking into her perfect black eye's, surrounded by nearly silver white skin he steeled himself once more.

"Great Mother I humbly thank you for answering my plea that I asked of you whilst in the throes of passion, sowing my seed unto your daughter. I offer you the bread from my hearth, the honey of the earth, and milk of a young mother to take as you would please. In your honor have I worked this field, sowing it so you may harvest as you so wish. I only hope that such an offering is worthy of your attention. Lastly I give unto you the heart of a mighty beast, slain in your name. I beg of you to strike me down if my offering is not enough or if I have offended you in anyway." And with that he was silent, all else was up to chance now; goddesses could be _quite_ fickle after all.

Rather than answer him she gave him a sly smile before looking down on her offerings, sitting herself to partake in the meal of bread, honey, milk, blood, and heart. Once she was done she still did not stand, instead turning to look to Susan's exposed sex. Truth be told that was the part he was most nervous about. He had not fully disrobed to perform the act, though they _had_ been quite passionate about their work none the less.

After looking at her, even stretching the woman open at one point, the silent Goddess soon stood. Slowly, seductively, she walked around him, looking him up and down.

_Fear not my priest_ came her echoing reply, making him feel weak as a newborn babe and as strong as an ox, _I will not harm you on this eve… "Not unless you want me to!"_ the last was spoken from her lips, a voice that poured honey into the vein's.

Finally he relaxed, though did not let down his guard and kept his wits about him, "Thank you Great Mother, you are very kind to me." He murmured to her, averting his eyes with respect.

"_You may look upon me. I know you like what you see!" _she said with a slight giggle that turned his blood cold and made his heart race. _I know what you want, what all men _truly_ want…_ she echoed in his mind once more

Steeling himself he looked on her body, feeling the urge of his own, knowing that not looking would be the last mistake he would make. "You are too kind Great Mother. I shall not deny that all men, myself included, do desire you, but I have come to ask a lesser favor of you."

Coyly smiling she pressed her body against his own, _"Perhaps I wouldn't be the one doing the favor…" _she said into his neck, before biting on his ear. _"What would you give to be both in bed and in the gratitude of a Goddess, great King?"_

"For any other Goddess I would give the world, but for you I could never afford." He said huskily, feeling his manhood rise.

Once again she laughed before stepping away from him, sitting on a chair that had not been there before. _"Oh, you play the game well my son!"_ as she clapped gently, _"Please, now I am eager to hear what you wish of me. Perhaps when we are done I shall keep you chained to my bed for the rest of eternity! Do go on…"_

"I shall not lie, Great Mother, what I ask of you is something greater than any mortal man or woman, something greater than and normal fey, and greater than any other God or Goddess but you. I wish to travel to the past in order to right the wrong that has been done to me, to the Isles, and to you, my Queen."

Looking on him her smile disappeared, _To your knee's mortal! And do explain what wrong's has been committed?_

As soon as he heard her in his mind his body reacted, even if he had wanted to stand he would not have been able to. "To me it was the betrayal of friend's, mentor's, and countrymen, all of whom chose to start this pointless war and became my enemies. To the Isles it is those same mortal's who brought war and death to her shores as if it were the coming of the tide. And to you, my Great Mother, is those same mortal's who defile your Lands and kill we who worship and cater to the true God's and Goddesses. They who kill without knowing or understanding, and threaten even the Fey with their closed minds."

"_And what makes you think that I have not deemed these wars to be as they are? I draw power from both the worship that you and yours give to me as well as the deaths and souls of those fallen in battle."_

"Forgive me Great Mother, but the death and blood price they put upon the Isles is too great, and too many die not in battle but in slaughter. If this continues…"

"_ENOUGH! Do you truly know of what you ask?" _she spat at him, _"To create another realm of existence next to this one so you may have you happy ending!"_ and then she laughed, _"Oh, now what to ask of you, what to ask?"_ standing once more she strode forward, grasping his long hair and pulling it back so that he stared up into her face, his chin resting between her legs. _"What you ask of me is truly great…. But far from impossible. As it is you are right, far too many of my daughters die before they can come of age or bear the fruit's of the future, and many of my followers that are tied to the earthly coils are dying. Creating a new plane may be what is needed, and is well in my power to create one that will last as long as your blood still flows through living hearts" _

Pulling his hair once more, making his back arch with pain and pleasure alike she continued, _"You who is King of Pagan's in all but name, for you alone shall I make this barter. You will go to this realm and do in it as you wish… though the price will be steep. Sow your seed you must, for your line is strong and those who from your loin's will be strong as well, as you have learned in the many years since your first Beltaine, where your seed first was first sown. Great are the deeds you have done here, my child, but all of it in payment for the blood you have spilt of your fellows. I shall absolve you of that mistake if you save and lead them in this new world. And Last I ask of you is to sow your seed this night."_

On seeing him look confused and a small bit fearful she smiled predatorily, _"Your blood runs strong and any child sown from your seed shall be strong. I shall take up your seed and give birth to a new god this night!" _and with that she pushed him back onto the stone circle he had knelt upon, before she laid herself on him, whispering into his ear, _"Lord Harold Ravenclaw Le Fey, tonight you shall take me in your arms and in the morning you shall wake up anew. You shall be child in true body, though your mind, your magic and all you bare upon you in _this_ moment shall still be with you."_

Slowly she began to disrobe him, his body beginning to react in full, and he slid his hands on her, feeling the leather she wore, and the delicate skin she had not covered, smelling her hair and kissing her neck.

"_Gifted shall your line be, and cursed shall you be. For age and shape shall be yours and theirs to chose and twice the length of the mortal coil shall you all live." _With a fierce vigor he tore the thin leather strap from around her neck, revealing her voluptuous bosom to him, _"But you shall live two lives, however you may chose to do so." _Slowly he kneaded her breast, as her own hands finally found his manhood, _"_ _For at the strike of midnight the day shall start again, and only at the second striking, shall the next day come."_

And with that she was silent, save for moans off pleasure and ecstasy. Long through the night they toiled, at the edge of a blooded battlefield where nothing but time moved. Before first sun she left him to wearily close his eyes, sleep taking him.

It was not sun or wind that woke him, nor natures calling, or Susan's voice. It was his aunt.

_BANG BANG BANG!_ "Wake up lazybones! Start cooking Dudley's breakfast."

Eyes opened with a snap and his sword was already half drawn when he remembered the barter he had made with Morrigan and the… payment, he had given to her. Sheathing the light blue steel he stood up, crying on the inside that he actually could stand all the way. His shirt, cloak, and robes were practically piled at his feet, barely hanging onto his shoulders . Underneath those his pants were not saved from falling and piled up on his boots, which were now many sizes too big. In fact the only things that didn't move or change positions were his ring, circlet, and amulet.

At the age of ten and twenty nine, Harold Ravenclaw had come from the future. Why? Because the future he had been facing was a damned one. At the age of seventeen he had killed the Dark Lord. At age eighteen, a year after killing said Dark Lord, he uncovered a dangerous and dark truth about his mentor, Albus Dumbledore.

The man who had helped train Harry in that last year before confronting Voldemort, who had aided him in hunting down the Horcrux's began a campaign to prevent a dark lord from ever rising again. Slaughter, bloodshed, and genocide. Albus Dumbledore had begun to kill off any who had ever practiced the dark arts, any who had learned magic from a source outside the 'light.'

Many sentient creatures were killed as well for being dark. Aragog and his kin were slaughtered, the giants, as few as they were, where killed because they could pass on their own resistance to magic to half breeds if they mated with humans. Veela openly mated with humans, passing on a magic that Dumbledore had declared wicked and were thus openly hunted and persecuted by the British Wizards and 'Light' wizards of other countries.

Harry had been woefully ignorant of these going on's, having been training and traveling within Britain's wilderness with Hagrid and several others. They had been learning much and had started to learn of the Pagan god's from Hagrid, who knew of but did not practice the religion of his father. Beneath the gruff exterior the man knew a lot. It was only after a year that they became aware of the situation: the ministry had come for Hagrid.

When he had asked Dumbledore the man had been surprised that he was not aware, trying to recruit him he later realized. When Harry had denounced the man he had been pursued by the 'Light" wizards for betrayal, but had been able to bring many others with him when he had fled to the continent. There he faced down the persecution's of the Light over the Dark while learning of magic, paganism, and most importantly at the time, they Fey.

Many years later he found himself face to face with the man who had created a world wide war. Owner and creator of the Staff of Judgment, as he called it. Wielding powerful magic's and magical objects he had acquired over the years he killed Dumbledore and thought he had ended it all. But he was far too wrong. Those countries that had been wronged wanted recomp, those people who Dumbledore had manipulated now felt that they could take up his lofty title and fought for it. Those who had nothing to do with the war saw weakness and tried to take advantage of it. The war didn't end: it had only started.

So, having been betrayed and broken so many time in so many ways Harry had given up on the race of man, choosing to defend the Fey and those who worshiped the Pagan gods like he did. After three more years he had grown strong, magically, mentally, and physically. He was a father many times over, even if he didn't know all of his children over the world. Lastly he had grown tired of the never ending war. And so Harry had called upon a greater being, one of the most powerful of them all, Morrigan. She was the Queen of the Fey, goddess of war and love. Truth be told he had never been in the presence of a more powerful being.

And thus had he come, determined not to see the age of war that the war had been plunged into.

Blessing the Diadem or Ravenclaw, he had found it in Albania with the help of an ancestor spirit, he was quickly about his wits, uncloaking, disrobing, and hiding all the clothing he had brought with him, Wrapping it into a bundle around his sword to hide at the end of his bed before removing his wand, or Voldemort's wand if you wanted to be picky, and casting a Notice-Me-Not charm on the area.

Dressing in his cousin's old cast off's he left the cupboard under the stairs, illusioning the Diadem, which fortified the magic's of Occlumancy and Legilimancy tenfold, to look like his old pair of glasses he hadn't worn in nearly eleven years and tucking Slytherin's Locket, luckily he had found its natural magic's untainted after the Horcrux was unmade, under his baggy shirt. The ring he didn't worry about, because just as Tom Riddle had worn it all those years undetected, so could he if he so chose to.

The yew wand he did not put away though, instead walking into the kitchen and pointing it at his Aunt's turned back, _Imperio Maiestas! _

When she turned around, a giant smile on her face, Harry was happy. He had a plan and everything was going better than he had planned. He was back in the past, though not in the position or way that he was expecting , and he had his objects.

Judging by the lack of another Harry He believed that they were now one and the same. Idly he wondered if the objects he had brought with him to the past were now nonexistent as well. That would make things _much _easier.

Giving his instructions to Petunia he began to plan things out as best as he could. _'Made it back, casted the improved imperius curse successfully.'_ That had actually been in doubt, since he had traded his Invisibility cloak for not only the spell, but a grimoire of natural magic's. _'I'm not an adult like I thought I would be though, so that may make things more difficult and adds a new dimension to my plan's. Though…'_

The Queen of the Fey had placed him under a Geis. He had a duty to perform and obligations now to his fellow Pagan's of the British Isles… The Dark Purebloods who had started the last war. _'Isn't that dandy? Now I have to kill Voldemort, their current Lord, and essentially establish myself as their leader.'_

On top of stopping Dumbledore before he could become truly Wicked, killing Voldemort, as was called for by prophesy, knocking woman up, though didn't think he would have trouble with that part overly much, he also had a curse to deal with.

"_Gifted shall your line be, and cursed shall you be. For age and shape shall be yours and theirs to chose and twice the length of the mortal coil shall you all live. But you shall live two lives, however you may chose to do so._ _For at the strike of midnight the day shall start again, and only at the second striking, shall the next day come."_

He hadn't had time to properly address it when it was said, what with the amazing groping Goddess and all. But now…

Sitting down at the kitchen table, eating the god awful eggs his aunt served, he thought it over and found it strangely obvious, for which he was grateful. _'"Shape and age shall be yours and theirs" could only mean I would take on the power to change my appearance … so I am a metamorphmagus?'_ well that would make getting woman easier, '_"and twice the length of the mortal coil shall you all live." That's easy, I'll live twice as long as normal witches and wizards and so will my children. Than the last part means that at midnight It'll be the same day over again… Oh, I don't like the sound of that.'_

The thought of two Harry's running around was nearly nauseating to him, the thought of having to sit through history of magic twice was an even worse thought. Then it all clicked _'I will live twice as long as normal human's because I will live through each day twice. If I didn't then I would age _twice_ as fast. And I can change my appearance because I will not be just Harry Potter, who needs to kill Voldemort and his Death Eaters, I will also be able to take on a second Identity… one that she has already gave me.'_

Indeed Harry found it quite funny, before she had started seducing him she had named him: Lord Harold Ravenclaw La Fay. He was Lord Ravenclaw by birth, through his mothers line ironically, and by bargaining with Her successfully she had named him Le Fey, a title given to few mortals.

Incidentally Moranna Le Fey was also the first Metamorphmagus, quite knowledgeable at even a young age, and her few children were all rather long lived for the time, each living to be about a hundred where as a hundred and fifty was not unheard of nowadays.

Before he had time to think on it more his uncle made his presence known.

"BOY! What are you doing, leaving your aunt to do all the cooking?!" said aunt was currently frowning at him, wondering if she would be able to throw him out of the house or not.

"Vernon!" she screeched at her husband, "Leave Harry alone, he hasn't done anything to you, he is a perfect little boy!"

Sighing he picked up his yew wand, pointing it at his purple uncle, "You…. Your one of them aren't you? You've bewitched her!" his uncle accused.

"Yes, yes I did. But you won't have to deal with that much longer uncle, I plan on "bewitching" you as well."

"I should have killed you when I had the chance!" the fat man snarled before being hit with a purple flash of light.

"Yes, you should have, but it is too late now. Get some coffee in a thermos and be off to work, if the opportunity for more work presents itself then take it, try not to leave work before eleven tonight if you can help it. And get a healthy lunch with lots of fruits. And tomorrow Dudley and you will be starting a diet alright?"

"Yes sir!" said his uncle, a fanatic look in his eyes, not too unlike that of a house elf.

Turning to his aunt, who had a similar gleam to her eye's, he told her, "Call the Polkiss' and let them know that Dudley is sick today and won't be going to the zoo. If they ask what he has say it is a case of flu that you don't where it came from. You will go shopping tonight for a healthy foods for everyone to eat, but will order take out tonight to celebrate your new take on life."

"Yes sir!" she said, practically crying.

"And don't call me sir, just call me Harry!"

"Yes Harry"

In his own way he hated this version of the imperius curse more than the original. The Majestic Imperius was an improved imperius curse created for him by Druantia, the Queen of the Druids, in exchange for the Invisibility Cloak Hollow, he possessed. Unlike the regular curse this one made the victims practically worship you, worse was that it could not be broken save a VERY powerful will and that if the victim thought that something would help you they will do it, even if it cost them their own lives.

As such he knew he would be making good use of the spell… provided he was careful on who he used it. Someone like… Ron for instance, would not be very subtle and could possibly get him in trouble. But using it on someone like Draco or Barty Crouch Jr. could be very profitable.

There was so much he knew and could do here… he was glad now that he had the Diadem, his thoughts would be hopeless otherwise.

Waving the wand once more, not fearing any wards Dumbledore may have put up since he knew there were no wards, he conjured a quill and parchment.

_Junk I need to do._

_1. Figure out metamorph powers._

_2. Be Harry Potter but gain actual allies (_you would be surprised how many people turned on Harry just because he had avoided the press and didn't truly know him like they did the Old Man)

_3. Stop Dumblebutt from creating Staff of Judgment! _(For obvious reasons and not so obvious reason's, though the destruction of most of the Russian Magical Kingdom was a biggie)

_4. Gain the alliance of the Pure bloods._(This would be a lot easier if he could figure out number one)

_5. Be named Lord Ravenclaw and Lord Slytherin by Gringotts _(Seeing as the old coot would kill off all but a dozen of the goblin's, the one informing him of his inheritance being one of them, it would be much more productive to get this done early on.)

_6. Kill Voldemort without hurting the Death Eater's Feeling's_(Surprisingly harder than it may sound, Death Eaters really don't like it when you kill their Lord… I mean, Bella started crying and crying girls are just so… difficult.)

_7. Buy Hagrid a Dragon after you convince him to quit working for Dumbleduckbutt. _(He had done so after Dumbledore betrayed the man the first time and he had broke the half giant out of prison and he couldn't have been more happy with the results.)

_8. If there is a way to kill Ron without getting into trouble I MUST FIND IT!_ (There had been many betrayals during Dumbledore's War, Ron had been one of the worst as he had bound Hermoine to him through their wedding ceremony, preventing her from going against him.)

_9. Save Sirius SOON!_

He had his list, now all he had to do was get started. "Alright, time to change!" squinting his eyes he willed himself to change into a new form, quite disappointed by the results. "Aw bloody hell, this is going to take time!" time he didn't have. Closing his eyes and fondling his new breast he tried again.

---

It was three days later that he finally started getting results from his self training… Or would that be six days? Well he had learned later that afternoon that when he went back in time his old self was in fact still there… or would he have learned that the next day? Whatever it was he had tried to avoid his other selves, trying to prevent paradoxes.

Odd as it may sound those days were good for something else other than metamorphmagus training, he had begun to learn how to navigate around his other self without being seen. He had taken to trying to spot himself on the first day, and hiding from himself on the second.

He was actually quite happy with the results.

He did stumble though when it came to doing things he was used to doing and not being allowed to do them yet… such as driving. On the fourth day (or would that be eighth?) he had decided to drive into London for something and had started up the car and begun pulling out of the driveway when his neighbor pulled him out of the car, thinking he was trying to steal it for a joy ride. Most certainly not one of his best moments.

Instead he had taken the Knight Bus, as transformed as he could at the moment, which included long blond hair, blue eyes, a narrower face and an extra foot he wasn't entirely sure he would drop when he got home.

Looking out on the city he was reminded of so many things, beautiful sights, long walks away from the magical world, and woman… so many B-E-A-Utiful woman. That was something he was finding quite hard to get out of his head since he had come back; women. Clearly the Geis that she placed on his included the whole 'sowing your seed' part. He had thought she had just meant he should be more sexually active, apparently it meant 'fuck or die.'

Well, not that he would actually die. A Geis is a lot like and Unbreakable Vow. Instead of dyeing though, if you fail to fulfill or break a Geis the deity, being, or even person (as humans could create Geis' under the right circumstances) would be able to choose your punishment.

It was a week after arrival, all fourteen days of it, that he had felt himself proficient enough to take on his guise. So on the second time through his Wednesday he found himself in the middle of the living room, closing his eyes as he began to feel his magic, letting it form what he wanted and changing the color of certain parts of that form. Soon, where once stood little Harry Potter, now stood Lord Harold Ravenclaw Le Fey, Herald of Morrigan.

'_How fitting.'_ He thought, when the last part entered his mind, not his own thought. _'I am both Harold and Herald_!'

Quickly he went back to the cupboard, dressing in his leathers, each piece with a story behind it. The boot's were one of his favorites. They had been worked by a grateful werewolf tribe in northern France who had been attacked by Dumbledore's men before he could warn them to flee. Hard leather on the outside and soft leather and fur on the inside, enchanted to leave no foot print behind. Made walking on snow and thin ice a breeze, since to leave a foot print he would have to break through the surface.

One of his other favorites was the black snakeskin armguards which held his wands, or wand in this case. Dobby the Free Elf had made them in his seventh year, traveling down into the Chamber of Secrets to take skin from the Basilisk and making it himself. After he had finished he had brought it to professor Flitwick to enchant so it told the Tale of the Basilisk by means of the stitching, which would move to form moving pictures that depicted Harry finding the Basilisk, Fawkes blinding it, Harry pulling the Sword of Gryffindor from the Sorting hat and finally Harry Slaying the great beast. The pictures moved so slow that you had to actually sit and stare at them to get the full show.

Once fully dressed, sans sword and golden werewolf cloak, he went and summoned the Knight bus once more, getting looks of awe from the pimply ticket holder. "To Gringotts bank, you fool." He said coldly in his mature tenor voice, glad to be done with the squeaky child voice for a little while.

"Yesse sir! Right away! To Gringotts Ern, on the double!" the dumb kid had even forgotten to take his money, he was scared so bad.

'_Am I really that intimidating to look at?'_ he thought to himself, thinking that it had only been his violent and bloody past that people had feared when they looked on him. _'I wonder what seeing the sword would have done to him?'_

Sighing internally he began to walk towards the back of the bus, knowing better than to stand in the front. As he passed his couldn't help but notice a number of eyes on him. When he did reach the back of the bus his eyes widened slightly, seeing a familiar pink hair.

"Hello there," he said amicably when he saw her staring, the coldness that was in his voice gone entirely.

"Oh, um, e Wotcher… Hi!" she stumbled out, blushing prettily as she looked down towards her feet, "My name is Tonks, su'pleasure to meet you."

Smiling back he couldn't help but remember the Tonk's of his memories. Oddly enough she had sided with Dumbledore when he started his reign of terror, though she had always been partial to him. "Hello, I'm Harold." He said, not wanting to introduce himself as a lord quite yet. To distract her from his lacking of last name he took her hand and gave it a gentle kiss, "A pleasure to meet you." Watching her blush he realized that the two of them had never hooked up do to the war.

"S'all mine." She said a little weakly. If he remembered correctly then she was a Seventh year this year in Hogwarts, Hufflepuff. By the end of the short trip to Gringotts, where many of the people got off, not knowing why none of _them_ could get the Bus to go into Diagon Alley, he had struck up quite a conversation with her, learning something of the political climate in Wizarding Britain. Finally though, with a debonair smile he strode off the bus, making the girl forget that she was heading to the Alley before the bus took off again.

Walking up the steps to the Bank, making a note to remember that the bus claims to go _anywhere_ on the island, he drew up what he knew of the goblin's from before they decided to meld back into the fey folk.

Goblin's are tiny, deceitful, cruel, and in love with all things money. Further more they are smiths, creating many wondrous things with their own magical blend of steel that they will more than willingly sell to human's for vast prices, and then be more than willing to claim it stolen within a day or two of it being sold. Overall they don't really like humans unless they give them a reason to. The fact that they collect payment off of every account in the bank keeps them bearable for most wizards. They do respect fear, money, and cruelty though, so that is what he would give them.

Walking up to a teller he could immediately feel the slight tingling of someone trying to pry into his mind and failing. Knowing it was the goblin he smirked before grasping the goblins mental probe and feeding it with images of said goblin being tortured with hot irons and its children fed to baby dragon's, which were much more painful to be fed to. A full dragon would kill you quickly, a baby dragon had to take its time to rip off pieces.

Receiving the image the masochistic little creature actually smiled, "How may I help you today?" he asked, a touch warmer than Harry would use with a troll that was trying to kill him.

"Inform your superior that he has three minutes to greet the heir of Ravenclaw before I withdraw my families patronage from the bank." And with that he waited, the goblin having run off as soon as the words were fully comprehended, not even waiting to hear the question repeated or to think on it any longer.

It was a full minute before the goblin returned, short of breath, asking him to follow him towards his superior's office.

On entering a lavished office not far off from the main floor, decked with gold and red colors, though not out of Gryffindor pride. Nearly every surface in the office was covered in weaponry of some sort, leaning towards a particular brand of battle axe over any other. The old goblin that sat behind the desk was smiling evilly at Harry, a servant goblin standing still to the man's right.

"That was a very cruel thing you did to young Griphook." He said slowly, smirking.

For some strange reason Harry found it quite easy to smile back, "Yes, yes it was, but the truth can be quite painful. Besides, I figured if I had him run all the way to the inheritance offices then I might actually have had to call my bluff."

"What can Gringotts help you with Mr…?"

Harry flashed some teeth at the goblin, deciding to use his full title, "I am Lord Harold Ravenclaw Le Fey, Herald of Morrigan and the last scion of Slytherin. Gringotts may help me by bringing me the ledgers on my accounts and tell me why I have not received any letters informing me of my inheritance."

The goblins smile had waned when he had announced himself as a lord, disappeared completely when he had hear the words 'Le Fey,' on hearing him claim himself a servant of the Great Mother his eyes had widened in fright. The names of Ravenclaw and Slytherin were nothing next to such claims.

"That is… That is quite unbelievable my lord. As in I would not believe you if it weren't for the fact that you have not been struck down where you stand by some unseen force. As you are standing I must rephrase my opening question. How may the Goblin Nation serve you my Lord?"

'_Its good to be King.' _He thought to himself, watching the goblin command drinks from his servant, highly expensive and alcoholic drinks.

"Quite easily my brother. I require access to the Slytherin and Ravenclaw accounts. Though they are not as large as some family wealth's, such as the Malfoy's or Lestrange's, they shall be enough for what I have planned. After searching through the log books for any indiscretion's and seeing what magical objects are in the vaults I may visit them. I would like any lands that are not currently tied to some sort of business or being rented out to be sold for the best price Gringotts can manage. All of those funds will be invested into the production of magical creatures and plant's for possible selling and personal use. Furthermore I would like you to contact the handler of the Potter vaults and inform them that I would like to meet with them over the possibility of purchasing Potter Manor."

The goblin had been silently writing during all of this, making sure not to make a mistake over such prestige's, if not wealthy, vaults. Hearing the last bit of news made him look up in confusion, "Any particular reason to request Potter Manor my Lord?"

Looking back with cold green eyes he answered, "Yes, though I don't believe Mr. Dumbledore would be satisfied if he heard of them."

Looking back down he murmured a, "Yes my lord." And went back to writing, "Yes, indeed I would also request that Gringotts and the Goblin Nation not reveal my full title to anyone, just that I am Lord Harold Ravenclaw. If you cannot keep discretion over a simple name then I doubt I will be having much more dealings here and I will inform your superiors of your folly with great joy."

Cringing with every word the Goblin kept writing, "You are too generous my lord, Our Great Mother has chosen wisely when she picked you."

Smirking again he looked around the room, taking a sip of his drink when it finally arrived.

---

At around six o'clock that evening the professors were all meeting for the last time of the year until late August. They were all sad to see Professor Cullen leave them this year, though being bitten by a vampire made it quite difficult to keep teaching… and the fact that he had lied about being a vampire since before the year began didn't help much.

"Well," said Albus Dumbledore, reaching the last point on their agenda, "there is only one last bit of business. As you all well know this coming September Hogwarts shall become home to one Harry Potter. I do hope we can all get along with him quite well. I shall send Hagrid to fetch the lad on his birthday to bring him to Diagon Alley and see how his living conditions are. Are there any concerns here?"

"I still don't see what's so special about the brat, Albus." Said one Severus Snape, not understanding the Potter obsession the world seemed to have, "Unless the lad is a squib he will most defiantly be a Foolish, arrogant Gryffindor like his father! He didn't even _do_ anything, he just had a reflective forehead. "

"Now Severus, is this really necessary? The poor boy isn't even aware of magic yet and already you are calling him arrogant."

"He. Is. A. Potter! And… Albus, you have a messenger raven on your shoulder."

Turning his head the Headmaster quickly stared at the small black bird, recognizing it from several messages he had sent between himself and the head of the goblin nation.

"You are all excused, I will see you on the twenty fifth." And with a small yelp of joy from several of the more youthful teachers he turned back to the message in question. He didn't like goblin's, never had. They were evil creatures that had no place amongst good men.

Removing his wand he cast several spells over the bird and letter, getting no evil intent or harmful spells from the creature. The letter had a simple read-me-only spell on it that prevented anyone but the intended recipient from reading it.

Removing and reading said letter was quite educational.

_Dear Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Handler of the Potter estates in lieu of The Lord Harold James Potter,_

_We write this letter to you today at the request of one Lord Harold Ravenclaw. The Lord Ravenclaw has expressed an interest in meeting you in order to purchase the Potter Manor Ruin's and surrounding land that is belonging there in. Beneath are a three dates that are acceptable for Lord Ravenclaw at the current time. Please return a letter with a positive or a negative to the meeting and a possible date. _

_Gringott's Wizarding Bank of Britain._

_The Department of Property and Natural Resources_

"Well that's no good." He muttered to himself. He had know that the lines of Ravenclaw still continued down into modern times, but had never intended for anyone to claim the title. Indeed the only descendent that he knew of Harry Potter himself, though that was, apparently, wrong.

The Ravenclaw and Slytherin lines were the lost lines of the four founders. The Smith family was descendent from Hufflepuff, while the Longbottom lines were the last known Gryffindors. As it were the Longbottom's had stopped broadcasting their lineage while the Smith family had abdicated any rights and privileges that go with the line to Dumbledore himself. And other than Tom Riddle there was no Slytherin line anymore.

He was glad for it too, as anything passed through the school governors could be vetoed by the Founder's and their descendents. As the last member of the Founders Court, as that house of the school governors was called, it would take a unanimous vote of the governors to overthrow his rights. With the addition of this 'Lord Ravenclaw' he now held precarious power over the school governors, who were usually split over their decision making as it was.

'_Well, that is provided they know of their position in our government.'_ All he had to do was ensure they didn't know…

Nearly as worrying was that the man wanted Potter Manor. Or at least the ruins of the Manor. The land around Potter manor was quite large, several sites on the land had been well known in the Druid circles as being magically powerful. Other than that there were the burnt out remnants of the old manor house and a small village where seasonal help for the manor orchards would live. Truthfully there was no reason _not _to sell it. He doubted Harry would ever go there, and the orchards were practically rooted during the Death Eaters assault on the manor. Still…

"Control must be maintained… For the Greater Good."

---

An hour later and he was walking out of Gringott's, his ledgers shrunken and tucked within the fold of his black furred werebear robe. Things had gone well. He was now declared the Lord of both Slytherin and Ravenclaw by the Goblin's. The vaults had slightly less gold than he had expected but still enough for what he had in mind. Besides, the investments he had made by selling all other lands in his control would become quite profitable with the people once it was announced that 'Lord Ravenclaw' or 'Lord Slytherin' was a supporter of their goods.

Next he would have to go to the Ministry and be declared there as well. That, at least, he was not looking forwards too. The idea of a bunch of politics lusting after his name was not very pleasant, though the thought that it would both undermine and make Dumbledore frazzled, allowed him to go through with it.

Walking into the Leaky Cauldron Harry once again became the sight to see. In some ways he loved it, in others it made him want to run away and hide. Quite self conscience he made his way over to the Floo, heading into the Ministry, glad that he had managed to master the art of _walking_ out of a Floo rather than falling out.

Registering his wand and making his way through the crowd as quickly as he could he took the elevator to Level two, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. This floor had many things on it: the Aurors' office which had considered entering at one point in his life, the misuse of muggle artifacts office where Arthur Weasley worked, The improper use of magic offices, and most important to him today, the Wizengamot.

It was here that he would have to declare himself the Lord of Ravenclaw and Slytherin, filling out the proper forms and meeting, to his great distaste, the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic. Lucky for him though his 'family names' were quite well known and he could get away from doing all the paperwork himself. Unluckily, he would still have to talk to the Toad.

Absently he rubbed the top of his hand, realizing he had accidently morphed the 'I must not tell lies' scar onto his hand.

Walking up to a desk in the large office he announced himself, bracing for the impact of all the eyes and soon after was answering questions for the peon behind the desk as he filled out the paperwork for him.

What's your Full Title?

"Lord Harold Ravenclaw Last Scion of Slytherin."

What year were you born?

'_Well the body he was currently in was twenty nine going on thirty and the year was now 1991, so 1961?_' "1961."

Have you presented yourself to Gringott's for the proper test's?

_Come to think of it they never did test me so no, I haven't, but they gave me all the proper paperwork and vault access anyways.' _"Yes, and was quite pleased with the results."

The question's went on in a similar manner until the man reached the bottom.

"Are you prepared to meet with the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic, Madam Delores Umbridge in order to be informed of your rights, responsibilities, and powers that are appointed per your station."

Idly Harry wondered if the blond in the next station would be free for a good romp around the bedroom, "Yes, that would be nice." He answered the man, wondering if she was any relation Fleur Delacour.

"Hem-Hem!"

Turning around he saw her in all her ministerial unholyness. Standing Harry Gave a bow to the sorter woman, not believing she actually fit into the black ministry robes she wore now. "Madam Undersecretary, what a pleasure to see you." He said, a large smile on his face, making it a sincere as he could. Occlumency was good for controlling emotion's like that. He could love person and by using Occlumency would be able to call on the emotions to cast a killing curse if he wanted.

Giving him an obviously fake smile she greeted him back, "Well, once I heard the _story_ that someone was _claiming_ to be the Heir of two of the Founders, well, I had to see it for myself. I will begin the formal interview once we are in my office."

Internally Harry was laughing. He knew there was nothing she could do to stop him from becoming a Lord, all she could do was inform him on what his new position in society meant.

When they reached the office Harry was scared for but a second: it was an exact copy of her office during his fifth year at Hogwarts.

Sitting behind the desk she waver her wand, making the black ministry robes disappearing. _'Ha! I knew she wouldn't fit into those robes, it was an illusion!'_

"Well Mr… Hm doesn't _say_ your name on here, now does it?" she said sweetly.

Just as sweet he responded, "Oh, au contraire, madam. My name is now Harold Ravenclaw. My past surname is gone and forgotten, all that is left is what you read."

Lips coming together into a line, yet still smiling, she spoke, "Oh, of course, though just for curiosity's sake?"

He really didn't want to play this game, "Madam Undersecretary, you _have_ no right to question my linage." He said coldly, making the woman lean back in her chair a little, though defiantly not cower, "I am the last _living_ Lord of the Houses Ravenclaw and Slytherin. By the records of Gringotts I am and the Ministry _will_ acknowledge it as such or they shall find that they have made a grave enemy of me. I do know my right's, for the most part, and I know that many in ministry would very much like to see me use those rights in their favor. All in all it would be pointless to try and control me, and if you hound me, you insufferable twit, then you shall find yourself in grave peril, are we clear?"

Taking a deep breath the woman opened her mouth, "We are clear on _this_ lord Ravenclaw. Though I must ask you for proof as to who you truly are. It would not do well to have unsavory sorts in our ranks."

Narrowing his eyes he spoke again, promising to himself to make her life hell, "Look upon my brow, you toad!" he spat, "You will find all the proof you need there! Look at what I have around my neck if you cannot comprehend the first with your fat filled brain. The Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw and the Locket of Salazar Slytherin. Artifacts of the founders!"

He regretted having to tell her that, but the sooner he could get through to her not to mess with him the better she would be. Immediately her greedy eyes rested on the Locket.

"The Locket of Salazar you say?" she asked, licking her lips like a fat kid in a bakery, "Well, I can take that as proof, to be tested…"

Staring down at her he decided he couldn't get through to her with words alone and that she would only do more harm than good if he used the Majestic Imperius on her he decided use the power of the Diadem to convince her.

"Madam." He said in a sickly sweet voice, drawing her eyes to his. "Ligilimen's!" and with that the process began.

---

It was nearly three hours later when he left the 'comfort's' of Umbridge's office. The woman was a piece of work to say the least. Luckily she would no longer be his problem. Layered compulsion's would make the woman shy away from thoughts of him, more towards making trouble for Dumbledore and trying to help out that poor Arthur Weasely in the Misuse of Muggle Artifact's office. She would also be much more pliable towards him when he was present. Cruel? Maybe if she were human.

---

It was two full days before he had received a reply from Dumbledore, doing little else other than working on his metamorphmagus abilities and forcing the Dursleys to do things. It was surprisingly dull, though he did head out to Diagon Alley once again to browse through and see if anything interesting popped up while he was there.

The meeting with Dumbledore took place on the first of July, in Gringotts of course. Dumbledore wouldn't let anyone into the school during the summer and Harry had no wish to go back there… yet.

Walking into the conference room Harry had to hold himself back, eagerly wishing he could just cut Dumbledore down now. But he couldn't. The man knew things that he needed to know and would be extremely difficult, maybe even impossible, to kill without his sword. There were many things that Harry was, as strong as Dumbledore was not one of them… Besides, he wanted to see if he could change the man at all.

"Greeting's Harold!" came the man's jovial voice, completely contrary to Harry's dark thoughts. "I am glad we were able to meet on such sort notice."

'_Quit trying to make it sound like it was your idea!'_ "Yes, my time is limited so I am glad you were able to chose my earliest date. But enough chatter," he said in a firm neutral voice, removing his plain black cloak that he bought on his recent venture into the Alley, "we have business to attend to."

"Indeed, we do." He replied in kind, sitting at the round table in the middle of the room provided for them, "Well, first off you have inquired into acquiring Potter Manor Ruin's and the surrounding lands. I must say, this is quite unusual. Those lands have been abandoned for more than ten years, I dare say they would be quite a useless acquisition."

"That is possibly true; though rebuilding the Manor is my primary goal." He answered amicably, trying to put forth a good foot, "As you no doubt know I have recently came into my family's heritage. I am the first in quite some time to take up the name though, due to the stigma that comes with it."

"Stigma?" asked the old goat with a frown and crease of his brow.

"Why yes, the Ravenclaw name is bound with another: Slytherin." The older man's eyes widened only marginally, "Yes, while Slytherin did have a legitimate son and heir, Ravenclaw had two. One who's line was not questioned and is said to have gone on until it mixed with others, Marisa Ravenclaw, and another that was from unknown origin's, Helen Ravenclaw. The second daughter was a child of Rowena and Salazar. It is from this child that I am descendent."

All of it was true, of course, and he knew the headmaster knew this. He also knew that the Headmaster _didn't_ know that the elder child had never given birth to an heir, raising her sister's bastard child as her own. Of course Helen Ravenclaw was a piece of work on her own and died so young that no one would have guessed it.

"That is very intriguing," the elder man said, stroking his beard "though I fail to see how it factors in to you wishing to rebuild Potter Manor." Internally the man was fretting, wondering how he could have missed something like that. Offhandedly he wondered if the child had gone to the Ministry yet to claim his _titles_. If he had then there was nothing he could do, if he hadn't then he may be able to do something at the very least. Two votes in the Founders Court was worse than one vote, he could overtake Dumbledore's control of the Court completely.

Smiling, realizing what was going through his old headmasters head, Harry answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "To rebuild my family of course." Truly, it kinda _was_ the most obvious thing in the world, "My hope is to create a large family, and to have two heirs, one to carry on the name Slytherin, the other Ravenclaw. Indeed, if I have a female then I have been considering several choices for possible mates, though it will be up to them in the end."

'_Ah! A chance to control him through his children, possibly even through his wife if he marries to whom I chose.'_

"Indeed… And what are you looking for in a mate?"

Smiling Harry shook his head, "Many thing's Albus, but love and willingness over all." If there was one thing that he knew the God's, and Morrigan especially, liked it was true love… ironically enough marriage wasn't all too important, though it was accepted. He truthfully doubted that he would marry; too many women, even those who practices the Old Ways like himself, would expect him to love only them if they were married. That was something he knew he couldn't do. He also knew that betraying any wife he might take would kill him on the inside. Until he was well sown and a father several times over wouldn't be settling down.

Smiling, believing he still might be able to win things his way, Dumbledore opened the negotiation's for real, "Very well, Harold. Well, the Potter Lands are nearly twenty miles in all directions. The large Orchard that was set up has been mostly destroyed and the farm house were all the fruits were stored has been destroyed, only leaving the stone foundation's. The Manor house itself is standing, though it is mere skeletal remains. A little ways past the farm house there is a village of sorts were seasonal hands would stay. The old houses are still standing, if barely, and have been abandoned as long as the rest of the lands."

"This is all in the north of land, towards the main road that leads to a few of the modern cities in Scotland Proper and is actually not too far off from Hogsmead, a very fortunate location for one of your ancestry. To the south is a rather large lake that is said to connect to the Black Lake on Hogwarts through underground river's. Surrounding the Lake and taking up much of the rest of the land is a dense woods that actually _is_ part of the Forbidden Forest on Hogwarts lands. I should point out as well that there are three clearings in the woods that had been known as rather respected Druid Circles in the past, One of the Winter Solstice, one for the Summer Solstice, and the last for the Equinox's."

"The last bit of useful information is that the lands had been placed under a number of permanent wards, standard Unplottable, anti-apparition, anti-Portkey, muggle repelling, as well as many others that are tied to the master of the land's should he set up the proper ward stones."

Harry listened to this all carefully, know well that he would be able to get through those wards with or without purchasing the lands as he was already recognized by the wards as a Potter. Had he not been a Potter by blood then he would have had to walk their and set up the ward stones with Gringott's help.

"Very good Albus." He said clasping his hands together in front of him. "Well, we will have to take a few things into account while deciding on a proper price. The fact that I will have to destroy and remove most of the existing structures and repair the others for one. I personally don't think I should be paying for decrepit buildings. Secondly I think it is only fair that since the orchards have been destroyed that they should also be taken away from the price of the offered lands. Lastly is the fact that everything has gone uncared for, for the past decade. Likewise though it is a fairly large lot of land with a piece of the Forbidden forest on it. The Druid Circles you mentioned sound like they can be used for some rituals. Other than that though it is just a piece of land to me."

"Excellent points lad… Now, how about… Oh, two hundred thousand Galleons?" It was a steep price for the lands, too steep for him to be willing to take.

"No, a hundred thousand would be _more_ than enough, thank you. Besides, the lands only _cost_ the Potter estates more money the longer they go without making a profit. In all honesty Mr. Potter will be saving money by selling it." He said with a frown. He had seen a few of the Potter ledgers when he had come of age, fifty thousand would be enough to cover all lost profits.

"My boy, those are valuable lands, I cannot just let them go for so cheap… perhaps if you were willing to trade something for it…"

Instantly Harry was worried. The old man was more tricky than a fey when it came to bargaining for things. "It will, of course, depend of what you wish me to give to Mr. Potter." He acquiesced.

With a large grin on his face he made his offer, "The hand of your first born daughter for Mr. Potter. With the appropriate magical contract's of course and supposing Mr. Potter or the young girl are willing."

Internally the younger man was nauseas. Being married to his own daughter, the thought that the child might wish to have a child with him… Then his mind began to move onto the loopholes in this. He _was_ Mr. Potter after all, he could negate the contract should it ever come to it.

"And in exchange for this marriage contract between my potential daughter and Mr. Potter you would give me the lands?" He asked hopefully.

"The contract and…. Fifty thousand Galleon's in exchange for the Potter Land's." Dumbledore answered, actually believing he had won.

Smiling evilly they both grasped one another's arm's, each believing they had won, "I will of course be expecting payment for my daughter by Mr. Potter himself, even if it is not in Galleon's." said Harry knowingly.

"Of course, of course, it is tradition after all!" and with that the two men walked out of the room. Before he left though Harry called to the older man.

"I will see you at the governor's meeting on the first then Albus?" internally he started crying, It would take too long to get in control of the Ravenclaw and Slytherin seats fully, but at least he may have an ally of sorts.

"Yes Harold." He said weakly, hoping the man wasn't too ambitious.

"Lot's of changes to make, lots of changes." An actual tear escaped the older man's eye.

---

With parts one, claiming his title's at both Gringotts and the Ministry, and two, getting a hold of the Potter land's, of his master plan complete Harry began stage three.

Next he would have to court the Pureblood high society. For that he needed a name with prestige and a place he could base himself out of.

First thing was first, he needed to fix up the new Ravenclaw estates and build a Manor from which to live. The goblin's would be ecstatic… so would the Fey when he called on them for help.

While he did that he would also need to look through the Ravenclaw and Slytherin finances to see what other sorts of business' he owned. While his ancestors were from a thousand years ago the line had gone dormant only two hundred years past, he should have shares that were still valid even today.

While it was the middle of summer he was also planning on performing a rite of fertility and abundance. It should give his lands a chance to grow anew in any event and with luck he might even be able to hire hands to take the fruit's off to market in the Alley's… Now that he thought of it, there was an accountant on Molly's side of the family…

Then there were the million's of other little plots that were jumping around in his head. He realized something… He now had the means to a thousand ends. Each night he would go to sleep with dreams of potion's, books, apprentices, gods, and plot's.


	2. The Potter Files

Ok, next potential story is the Potter files, a nice little Dresden Files Harry Potter cross over. It will NOT be Harry Potter in the Dresden Universe, instead it is simply Harry Potter raised by Harry Dresden. Follows the books by the way, not the tv series. Once again if you have ANY questions, requests, ect. or wish to try your hand at one of my stories than feel free to contact me so i can at least put you on my alerts list.

RRR- Read- review-repeat

The Potter Files

Sitting in his office, Harry Dresden sat. Looking at the phone. Wishing it would ring… He'd been doing that a lot lately. Well, rent was due, he needed food on the table for him and mister, his pet cat, though it would look more like a baby saber tooth tiger if you asked him, and of course for a wizard to work he needs the proper materials.

Oh, did I forget to mention that?

Meet Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden- not that you'll get the words from his mouth- wizard by trade and magic. Standing at six feet some inches he was thin, brown haired, and quick to anger. Look him up in the yellow pages if your ever in Chicago, he's the only one listed under Wizard.

Actually that was a new development. Truth be told he had just gotten started up after finishing his three year trial period under another investigator, Nick Christian, so he could start his own practice. _Technically_ he was a privet investigator, but he happened to deal with the paranormal world.

Not that it really mattered. After the first month of nonstop crank calls and curious people who thought it was a joke, the phone had stopped ringing. He had had two job's since he had started up. One were some drunk thought he heard a werewolf, in the middle of the new moon, and another from a Chicago PD officer he had had a run in with a little less than a year ago. Surprisingly _that_ had been the real deal, even if she didn't believe it one hundred percent.

Karin Murphy, an up and coming officer in the Chicago PD. She had seen Harry in action a while back, while working for Nick at Ragged Angle Investigator's. Well she knew something was going on with her newest case and it reminded her of the night she decided to try and take on a full grown troll. She calls in Dresden, who does his thing, finds the perp, saves the girl, only for said girl to pop him in the face for being a chauvinist pig. After that, and the passenger side door of the Blue Beetle, he managed take out the offending fairy and tell Murphy what happened.

I hear they have her under investigation now.

Yup, that's him, Harry Dresden: getting beat up by five nothing blond cops for saving their lives and possibly getting them fired from Chicago's best.

Looking at the clock on the wall, glad that it's still working, he decides to call it a day. No need to turn off the coffee machine, he hadn't been able to buy coffee in a week, and none of the lights work anymore, so he just leaves, heading straight past the elevator and to the stairwell.

Yeah, magic and technology don't mix together real good. He doesn't understand why, but magic tends to short circuit anything made before World War II. Hence he drives a beaten up Blue Beatle… well, mostly blue. It's just the passenger side door and trunk hood… and the driver side fender… It was still mostly blue.

Also hence why he was a little wary on taking the elevator down to the ground level when he had two perfectly fine legs that he didn't broken.

Reaching the bottom he's stopped by the mailman, on his way up to deliver to the building, surprised when he actually saw he had something. Two something's even.

Grabbing them he looks at the first piece he see's it's from his mechanic, Mike… apparently the Beetle's gunna need to go back into the shop to replace the door that was just fitted onto it: there was a recall and apparently he can get him a newer one for free.

Shaking his head he doesn't even want to think of the problems that could possible come from this. With his luck he would be fighting a vampire and the door would blow up… wouldn't matter that there's nothing to blow up either- just would.

Looking at the second piece he's surprised to see that it's a letter from a kid over in Europe. Nick had signed the two of them up for some sort of pen pal program with kids around the world but that was like… wow, only two months ago!

Opening it he reads through the letter. From some little snot in England, that was named Harry too, and was entering his second year… 'S_o that would make him what, seven? Six? Hell if I know how old they start over there. Lives with Uncle and Aunt and cousin, doesn't really like it there either. Wants to know what I do for a living…'_

Oh, that was just hilarious. They had him listed as a Privet Investigator. No way they would have let Harry Dresden the Wizard write to little kids, but Harry the Privet Eye?

Well, he wouldn't lie to the blighter. He'd tell him _all_ about being a wizard. Probably be pretty funny while he's doing it… especially if he drank those last two bottles of Mac's finest while he did it…

* * *

It was month later that he got the response from the kid. He had been right, writing to the kid while drinking Mac's micro brew had done the trick. Plus he had gotten a couple of gig's since then. Ms. Copper, who was now with S.I.- special Investigation's- had called him in to help them out for a big pay out, and Mac himself had needed Harry's help finding something.

That last one was simply because he was good like that. Give him a sample of a person or thing and he could find it.

Best of all though was that the beetle had stayed in once piece the whole time.

Opening the letter Harry skimmed through it before letting it fall to the floor. "How the _hell_ does stuff like this happen to me?" he yelled to his office… his very empty office.

Picking the letter back up he reads through it again. Well… that was interesting. Apparently the kid had been told magic wasn't real, just as Harry had suspected, but that since he read the letter he remembered a few things _he_ had done. Shrinking shirts, turning a teachers wig blue, regrowing a full head of hair overnight… _'Wait… the wind picked him up?'_ he asked himself, looking at the letter as if it were a viper.

Sighing he put his head in his hands. He just wasn't in position to deal with this shit. Not when he had-

"Dresden!" yelled the tall, stocky German man, as he stood in Harry's office door, unseen by the younger man.

Looking up Harry blinked, wondering what part of his mental breakdown Morgan had entered during. Morgan was Harry's… well, parole officer really. You see about nine years past Harry's mentor and guardian decided to go all… evil. Yeah, didn't end well for anyone involved, especially not the two who had died as a result. Harry on the other had was put under the Doom of Damocles. If he breaks any of the Laws of Magic he get's his head cut off… literally. Morgan was here to be witness, judge, jury, and executioner. And he really didn't like Harry. Not that there was any love lost between the two.

Surprisingly Harry was glad to see the man.

"Morgan!" he said with a false joviality, "Just the man I was hoping to see. How's work been?"

Looking at Harry suspiciously he tells the taller man, deadpanned, "I executed three warlock's in New York City and was reminded of you." Suddenly it became very hard to smile. Hearing about three people, probably kids who didn't know better, getting their heads cut off was not something he could just smile at.

Dropping the pretenses Harry grabbed the letter and motioned for Morgan to take it.

Patiently he watched as the man read through it, wishing the Warder would show some sort of emotion on his old face. Pocketing the letter he stared at Dresden.

"Boy, I know your dumb, but you told a child about magic? If it were up to me you'd be locked up somewhere real tight for that kind of stupidity." He said, plopping a large brown golf bag down off his shoulder.

"What was I supposed to do, lie to a kid. I am what I am!" he yelled back at the Warder, eyeing the golf bag sitting on the ground in front of his desk, no doubt where he kept the silver sword of his station, the one he used to execute three people with oh so recently.

"Lying would be a good start." Was the reply, swinging the gold bag back his shoulder after stretching out the muscle underneath the strap, "Personally I think you should stay away from little kids as much as possible. Not that it matters now, lock the place up and get what you need from your home. Meet back with me at McAnally's in two hours."

Harry just stared at the man's back for a second before he responded, making the man stop in his track's, "Get what I need, what's that supposed to mean?"

Turning around Morgan stared at Harry dangerously, "It _means_ you revealed the world of magic to a six year old child who seems to be coming into his magic much too early and are now going to take responsibility for what you started. Now lock up, pack, and meet me at McAnally's Pub in two hours or suffer the consequences."

"But that's something for the Warders and the White Council to do!" he yelled back, making the brown haired German man smile in turn.

"As much as it burn's me to say it: You _are_ a member of the White Council. Since you started this you shall be the representative going with me, while I shall inform him of the Laws of Magic. After that I could care less." Turning around he began to walk out of the door, stopping briefly to inform Harry, "Oh, and I shall be informing the Council of your action's at their next meeting."

Alone in his office Dresden turned and kicked his chair, knocking it over, "Fucking Morgan!" and he went about locking up, wondering how he was going to keep Bob quiet the entire trip.

* * *

Harry Potter was a very special child. He himself had only realized this himself two weeks earlier.

His school had participated in a pen pal program with adults all around the world. The man who had been picked as his pen pal, Harry Dresden, had been listed as a Privet Eye when Harry had picked him at the end of June. It's not that wanted to be a Privet Eye or anything… but it seemed like it would be interesting to hear about... and his name was Harry too, there was that.

When he got the letter back though it had been so different. Harry had said he had become an Investigator so he could open his own practice, but instead of dealing with regular cases he dealt with those that were _magical_ in nature. After that he had gone on to talk about the different things he could do and a few story's about meetings with magical being's.

Magical… All his short life he could remember his uncle telling him that there was no such thing as magic, that the only people who believed in magic were crazies and freaks… well his uncle called him a freak nearly all the time, so it wasn't that strange in his mind to believe in magic.

And then he started thinking… about the different _freakish_ things he had done to gain his uncles ire… and it made sense. Magic was real.

Not that he was going to tell his uncle that he knew, thank you very much, but still, now he knew _why_ he was different from everyone else. Idly, as he worked on aunt Petunia's rose garden, he wondered what other thing's he could do with magic. Harry had written about controlling the wind's to pick stuff up and throw it around and being able to set stuff on fire or doing rituals to find people and creating circles to protect himself with.

While he was doing this though he was blissfully unaware of his aunt cleaning through his cupboard, making sure he didn't steal any of Dudley's toy's or crayon's and coming across a single letter from the school's pen pal program.

Walking back into the house an hour later Harry was hot and sweaty from the August sun and dirty from the de-weeding. As he began to walk up the stairs though he felt his aunt grab his ear dragging him towards his 'room.' "Boy, you will go to your cupboard right now and stay there until your uncle and I decide you can come out!" and with a final push she sent him into his cramped living space. Locking the door behind her and shutting the blinder's on the front of it.

Sighing Harry resigned himself to his punishment, though for what he hadn't a clue. Reaching under his mattress he went to grab his letter from Harry, planning on holding onto it as he dreamt of magic and a new life full of wonder…

It was gone, he realized after a second or two. He had left it under the mattress, right at the top right corner, and now it was gone. Eye's widening he realized why he was being punished.

Hours flew by and Harry heard his uncle walk into the house and head straight into the kitchen for dinner. Another hour went by and he patiently waited for his aunt or uncle to come get him so he could take care of the dishes like he did every night.

Then the banging started on the wall right next to his door.

* * *

It was nearly six at night when Morgan and Harry stepped out of the portal to the Nevernever into a Warder safe house in central Surrey.

The Nevernever is… well, it's the world right next to our own, demon's, fairy's, and everything in between, you can find them in the Nevernever. It's Wonderland on crack, Peter Pan's Never Land is a cheap knock off. In fact combine both of those _and_ add Narnia to the mix and you still don't even come close to what the Nevernever really is.

It's a world between worlds. A spiritual representation of our own world at point's, and a place where the law's of Physic's are rendered moot at others. It's there that you will find the Fairy Court's, the two ruling entities amongst the fey, earth bound spirits, ghost, and if you go far enough in demon's and Ghouls too. Yup, a genuine Nasty Wonderland of Doom.

It was also the place where Harry's Crazy Fairy Godmother lived, though thankfully they got through without incident.

An hour later the two of them found themselves stepping out of an old beat up pick up truck from around the Jurassic period. Harry, in canvas duster, cowboy boot's, a pair of worn blue jeans, and flannel shirt from way back when. Morgan on the other hand couldn't have been bothered to change into a pair of civvies, instead opting for robes and the gray Cloak of the Warder's, his silver sword, which would cut through magical enchantments and protection's, strapped at his side.

Looking back at the writing he had scribbled down after smooth talking a local school representative over the phone he confirmed it, "Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey… Little Whinging? Who wants to live in a place called Whinging?" he asked his stony faced partner who kept his eye's peeled as if expecting an ambush… Probably expecting Dresden to be the one setting it up.

"Enough Warlock, let's go up there and talk to the boy so we can leave. I'm assuming that you'll need to be escorted back to Chicago after all."

"You're the one who pulled me all the way to _bloody_ England!" Harry snapped back, walking forward and knocking on the door. Absently he noted that someone had just started hammering something when they walked up. A few seconds later, after the noise stopped, a large beefy man opened the door, staring at the two of them nastily.

"Well?" he asked them, a sneer on his face, "I'm busy right now, what is it you need? If your trying to sell me something I don't want it!"

Harry just smiled, noting that the man's tone seemed to have bothered his Warder buddy a wee bit.

"Excuse me, we are looking for a child who lives here, Harry Potter." Said Morgan, clearly hoping to get this done and over with.

Looking past the large man he could clearly see he had been nailing a two by four to keep a small closet under the stairs shut. Something wasn't right here.

"Harry Potter, there is no Harry Potter here and there never has been!" he yelled, practically spitting in Morgan's face.

Harry looked at the man sharply, "You are a Mr. Dursly, yes?"

"And what of it you vagrant. Who are you? What business do you think you have in my home?!" Ok, now Harry was getting upset, not only was he getting spit on too, but the first letter he had from Harry clearly stated he lived with his family: The Dursly's.

"Well, my name is Harry Dresden. Your nephew, Harry Potter wrote to me through his school's pen pal pro-"

"There is no Harry Potter here! Now if you two freaks would kindly leave!"

"We aren't going anywhere until we get some answer's buddy!" yelled Harry, staring down at the man.

"I'll have you arrested for trespassing!"

"Dresden…" said Morgan calmly, not even getting a hint of Harry's attention, "DRESDEN!" he barked finally.

Snapping his head at the shorter stockier man, "WHAT!" he barked back. Then he heard the yells.

* * *

And just as fast as the banging started it ended. Cursing under his breath he heard his uncle groan as he stood up, opening the front door.

From where he was he couldn't hear everything, though he did hear his uncle yell his name several times, declaring that there was no Harry Potter living there.

Slowly fear clenched his heart, making him wonder what was going on, why someone would be looking for him. Was it the cop's? No, uncle Vernon would have handed him over in an instant if it were something like that… Someone looking for him, a friend maybe? Perhaps it was…

His thoughts were interrupted though when one of the men barked out the name Dresden. _'Harry Dresden? No, but if it is then maybe I… I can escape.'_ And so he started to yell, calling out the man's name.

* * *

It was an awkward moment as the three men stood there, listening to the child's cries for help. Narrowing his eyes Harry lifted his hand, releasing the energy he kept stored in the single silver ring on his finger, knocking the large man in front of him to the ground. If he had weighed less he probably would have been sent flying. The ring was designed to absorb excess kinetic energy that he released as he moved, as it was it packed quite a punch.

Stepping over the groaning man, and through the threshold to the home, he went straight for the sound and felt bile rising in his throat. It was coming from the closet that the man had been boarding up. With three long strides he was standing over the door, tearing the piece of wood away, glad there wasn't even a full nail in there.

Bending down he opened the small door, noting that the screams had turned into sobs. Staring back at him, under a messy lot of black hair, were two emerald green eye's with tears flowing freely from the sides, a large smile on the boy's face.

"I knew it, I knew it was you!" he muttered, leaping into Harry's arm's, "As soon as I heard them say your name I knew you had come here!" and then broke down, crying unabashedly.

Absently he noted that Morgan had the boy's uncle held face first against the wall with some sort of spell while his arms stuck together in the small of his back in a most painful fashion. Clearly he had broken through the homes threshold in order to do magic in here The Warder himself was out of sight, looking through the residence for any other hostiles.

A threshold is a… well a natural magic that protects a person's home from magical nastiness. For a wizard like Harry and Morgan it would normally mean leaving magic at the door unless, like the warder had done, breaking through it.

Coming back to himself he patted the boy's head, making him look up at him, "Hey, wanna see some magic at work?" he asked the kid, pointing over at Vernon.

"Are you going to kill him?" the boy asked, a slight gleam in his eye.

"NO!" he barked at the boy, feeling sorry for his tone as soon as he said it, watching as the young boy bowed his head and murmured an apology, "Hey, Hey, I'm sorry for that. But there are some things you just don't do with magic. Killing people is one of those things." He explained, making the child look up at him once more.

"Are you going to punish him at least?" he asked, looking hopeful.

Dreading the response he would get he asked Harry, "Did he hit you a lot?"

Blinking up at Dresden he saw the boy roll his shoulder's before wiping the tears away from face, "Nu uh. He only ever hit me when I broke something or did… magic…"

Internally Harry wished Morgan wasn't here, that he _could _kill this man. Beating a child when they did magic, absurd.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Morgan walk from another room into the kitchen and put Harry down to go talk to him.

The old warder was tense, his eye's were like rock's, "Well, what'd you find?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Two other's, a woman who I had to knock out and a boy who was so glued to his T.V. that I simply locked him in his room."

The two stood there in silence for a second, regarding one another, two similar yet completely different trains of thought, "Morgan…" Harry started quietly, "do the Warders or the Council have a contingency plan for things like this?" moving in closer he whispered to the man, "A child this young, coming into his magic, he _needs_ training or else he could do some serious damage to himself and the people around him. I know that the council deals with the use of magic and all, but this…"

Morgan stared at the man in front of him for a second, almost wishing he dared to look into his soul, "Aye," he said at last, "there are things set up for these instances. I will need to make a few phone calls to the local Warders before we can take him, but this shouldn't be too much of a problem. I will warn you though Dresden, everything is not as it seems." He looked entirely too grim for Harry's comfort.

"What do you mean Morgan?" he asked tensly, grabbing the man's muscular arm before he could turn to make those phone calls.

"Tell me, have you ever heard of Evocationist?" the man asked, jogging something Harry's memory, an incomplete knowledge.

"It's a group signed to the Accords." He said, though that was all he truly knew of it.

"Aye, a group that uses almost only evocation. They have the potential to become Wizards, like you and I, though they don't because of their own natural talents in evocation. They are so tight nit and secretive that they have blocked out all other forms of magic from their society save their own. Where a wizard like you and I must rely on our own belief of magic to create it they have made it so that there is only _one_ way to do their magic."

The taller man looked down at Morgan in confusion, "How?" he asked, "I'm not an expert on the why's and how's of magic, but that shouldn't be possible."

"Because, Dresden, they force their society to believe that how they do magic is the only way to do magic, and since all the older generation's believe it to be true so do the younger generation's. It's the same way we do magic but on a larger controlled scale." And with that he pulled away, heading to the phone to call the local Warder office and get things into motion.

Absently Harry sat on one of the chairs, thinking about what he had been told.

Magic required belief to be used, the more you believed in magic the stronger it could be, within reason. The most important part of magic though was the fact that it was _never_ the same for any two people. Just because your master did thing's one way didn't mean that it needed to be done that way. Just because one person used Latin to summon do spells with didn't mean another person couldn't use ancient Egyption or Sumerian.

But this group, Evocationist, had such a strong control over their own people though that magic was… linear! That's not what magic is meant to be… And this child. Morgan didn't say it aloud but was implied, that he is supposed to be one of these people.

But if they could take him away… then someone could start training him and he wouldn't be stuck in such a society… '_or even better, he could learn _both_ ways of using magic.'_ He thought to himself optimistically. Not that it really mattered right now.

As Morgan continued talking in a hushed voice he walked back into the hallway where he had left Harry, shocked by what he saw. The boy was sitting there against the wall, holding the two by four that had Vernon had started to nail into the door, gripping onto it tightly while looking at Vernon angrily.

Walking over to him he put one of his hands on the boy's, feeling it shake under his own.

"I want to…" he murmured, to the older man, gripping the wood even tighter, "I know it's wrong but I want to." Here his voice started shaking, his eyes watering but no tears falling, "I wanna make him hurt like he made me hurt, I want him to know what I had to go through… I… I…"

Awkwardly he pulled the child into an embrace. Though his watery eyes stayed fixed onto Vernon's vulnerable body.

"I know Harry…" he whispered to the boy, "I know what it's like. He was your guardian, he was supposed to watch over you and take care of you, but he betrayed you… But that's not how to go through with it. Trust me, I know from experience. Whether with magic or that board in your hand you can't take your revenge that way."

"But it would be so easy…" the green eyed boy whispered back, "He's there and helpless against me… I could do it!" this last was so quiet that Harry had to strain to hear it.

"Yes, you could." The older man said back, "And it _would_ be easy to do, but we are only truly strong by _not_ doing what's easy and _doing_ what's right."

Looking up at the older brown haired man the raven haired child asked, "But shouldn't he be punished for what he did? I KNOW what he did to me was wrong, but I could never tell anyone. I tried telling the school councilor once and when she came over here they distracted her and put some of Dudley's toy's in the guest room. They spread rumors around the neighborhood saying I was a disturbed child so no one listens to me. I'm only _six_ and I know better. But _him,"_ he spat the word at Vernon, both figuratively and literally, "he's forty and doesn't seem to know."

Not for the first time in his life Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden was at a loss. He couldn't just lie to the kid, not after all of this, but what _was_ going to happen the fat man? "I… I don't know what's going to happen to him Harry. From what Morgan, that's the other guy who came here with me, from what he told me the wizards like me have something set up that will take you out of here… but as for punishing your uncle and aunt I don't know."

The raven haired boy almost jumped for joy when he heard that- he would be leaving Privet Drive. But before he could he looked towards the older man and asked him another hard question, "What's going to happen to me Harry?"

Heart clenching the older man responded, "I don't know kid… I don't know." It tore him to pieces seeing the look on the boy's face.

"But I wanna stay with you!" he said frantically. "You were the one to tell me about magic in the first place, you're the one who came and rescued me!"

"Listen kid," he said gently, "I can understand wanting to stay with me, but I'm only twenty four, and I'm not exactly the most well off man in the world. Hell, I'll be honest kid, I'm downright poor. Besides, I'm not exactly the best liked person amongst the wizards."

"But you came and saved me!" the young boy said desperately, clinging onto Harry all the tighter.

"Look, I'll try and keep in touch, but it's not up to me in the end. They will probably call the Council together to see who will take care of you."

"The Council?" the child asked, trying not to think about being away from Harry.

Looking down at the kid he rubbed the mop of messy hair, wondering how he managed to make it all grow back like he said, "Yup, the White Council. They're the ones who are in charge of the wizards and enforce the Seven Laws of Magic."

"What are the law's of magic?" he asked, looking at Harry hungrily. It wasn't a surprise, really, that a child who had never had an adult to answer his questions would look at someone like Harry in such a way.

Smiling at the look he told the boy, "Alright, listen up, and listen good, because these seven little rules, which aren't all that hard to follow _or_ slip up on, are going to rule your use of magic for the your life. Number one: Thou shalt not kill by use of magic. Means don't use magic with intent to kill or if there is a chance it _could_ kill someone. Number two: Thou shalt not transform other's. changing people into things can and will hurt their minds. Now the next two are pretty close together. Number three: Thou shalt not invade the mind of others. Number Four: Thou shalt not enthrall another. These are biggies, right up there with the killing thing. People's minds are sacred things, and to break into someone elses mind is a terrible thing. And in addition to that it can be addicting, you know what that means?"

Nodding his head little Harry answered, "Means you _need_ and _want_ to keep doing something, even if it's bad for you."

Smiling he went on, "Right, and bad it is. The more you try to do it the more it affects you, making you… different. Also the council means that any kind of mind magic, reading minds, making people do things against their will by controlling their minds, planting suggestions in their minds to get them to do or not do things, they all fall under the same thing… a person who's mind has been tampered with loses a lot. Their freewill, the reassurance that it won't happen again or that they didn't do something while they were being influenced, and sometimes they lose their minds altogether."

Frowning, the young boy looked up at him, "Then why would people want to do that to others?" he asked, "Hurting people like that, I mean."

Harry hesitated hear, not knowing what to say, "Well… sometimes they don't know any better, and sometimes they think that it's alright to do something even if it hurts others."

"People are crazy." He said, leaning against Harry's chest, "What are the other rules? That's only four."

Smiling he patted the boys head, "Number five: Thou shalt not reach beyond the boarders of life."

"Necromancy…" said the child from his spot on Harry's lap, explaining after feeling pull back and look at him, "I read it in a kids book about an old sorcerer who would bring back the dead to fight his foe's. And in the Lord of the Ring's books, they call Sauron a necromancer too. The Dursly's didn't like it when I read either of those. The first because it had a bunch of stories about magical people and things, the second because Dudley wouldn't have been able to read through a dozen pages before needing to start over again."

Dresden laughed a little at hearing this, "You sure your six kid?" he asked, getting a beaming smile from the young lad who replied in the positive.

"Yup, going on seven July thirty first!"

"Hehe, well, yes, necromancy _is_ what that Law prohibits. Calling, binding, and exploiting dead against their will. There are some ways to _ask_ the dead for help, but you cannot force them. Met a man who was real good at talking to and listening to the dead, though personally I think he's hoping to make money off it."

"Money's good." The boy yawned, making the American chuckle.

"Yes, money is _very _good. Ok, next is number six: Thou shalt not swim against the Current of Time. Basiclly, you cannot go back in time, if you do you could create a paradox."

"What's a paradox?"

"A paradox… well, it's doing something that is supposedly impossible. Don't worry though, as long as you don't try and change the past it should be all good. Supposedly a paradox would destroy all of reality, but I actually doubt it, I mean after several thousand years we're still here, yet in order for their to be a law about it means someone had to have done it."

"Like when the teacher had to rule only to use pencil's and Dudley used color pencil's. The next time they were going over the rules they made sure to mention to use _regular_ pencil's only."

"Right in one. Lastly is number seven: Thou shalt not seek beyond the Outer Gates. This one you probably won't understand for a while, but in a world right next to our own there is another world, called the Nevernever. There's a lot there too, and it's real dangerous. But when a person need's to make a get hold of a creature, whether it's a Fairy or a… something else, you call them from the Nevernever. But beyond the Nevernever is something we call the Outside. In _that_ realm are creatures called the Outsiders. They are demon's of the highest caliber, resistant to magic and hard to kill by any other means. They are so dangerous that there is a Law to prevent Wizards from calling on them."

"Whoa." Said Harry, practically asleep in Dresden's arms. Not that the older man cared… it just felt right. He couldn't imagine this child being shipped off to a complete stranger to take care of him, but who was he to question?

Sitting there he didn't see Morgan standing in the door way where he had been since near the beginning of the conversation, having plowed his way through red tape in no time.

* * *

It was half an hour later when the warder base had called the house back and the three had been on their way. When Harry had mentioned Vernon to Morgan he was informed, "We have a man on the way to take care of this." And Harry left it at that.

So with Little Harry sleeping on his lap, the duster thrown over him as a blanket, they made their way back to the warder base in the area where they were able to put the child to rest.

It was after doing so that Harry walked into the kitchen of the small house they had taken control of, seeing Morgan deep in thought at the kitchen table. Oddly enough entering the kitchen triggered the random thought of, _'Mister is going to kill me when I get home.'_ Referring to what may or may not have been a cat or baby lynx.

"Tell me Dresden," said Morgan from across the table, "Why do you care about the boy?" Harry couldn't help but _feel_ the look that the old warder was giving him.

Harry stared back at the man though, looking just as hard, before finally replying. "Because, I know what it's like to be betrayed. I'll never forget the day that Justin turned on me… I'll never forget what happened back then, just like Harry will never forget what's been happening in his life. There is a lot in our lives, Harry and mine that is, that are quite similar you know?"

"Like what?"

Sitting down he tried to explain it to the man, "We were both betrayed by our guardians, we both came into our magic early, both Harry's… From what he wrote me I know that he lost both of his parents, unlike me though he never knew either one of them though. In a way we both lived in our own little orphanages, lives that we HATED." Unbidden came memories of his father and living in the orphanage for those four years afterwards.

"Hmm." Was the only thing to come from Morgan though for several minutes as they both sat there, remembering their youths, for better or worse.

"The lad is smart." He said at last, fixing the taller man with a look, "I heard enough of the conversation to pick up on that. I can't say I was able to read Tolkien's at his age. With the right teacher he could go far." Nodding his head Harry looked up at the warder, asking him.

"What's going to happen to him Morgan? You know about this… program for the kid's, what does it entail?"

Sitting up straight the man responded wryly, "Well now, can't refuse the big bad wizard of the White Council no, can I?" smirking when he heard Dresden mumbling something about signing checks, "The senior council with gather together and they will hear our testimony's, and then they will have the lad go off with the Ancient Mai to be tested, in order to make sure he has actually come into his magic. After that they will reconvene without us and debate about the issue. There are several protocols they need be followed and the original agreement has some things in it that they will no doubt argue over. After that they will give Harry to his new guardian and mentor."

"Just seems so cold." Dresden said flatly, getting a nod of agreement from the older man that actually surprised him. Pushing on he asked Morgan another question that had been bothering him, "You mentioned it earlier, about those Evocationist." He said, seeing a scowl form on the older man's face, "What else can you tell me about them?"

"Aye, that lot… No good can come from them, mark my words. Warlocks and destroyers of faith they are. Lucky us it's the Senior Council that'll have to deal with them. As a standard procedure whenever dealing with people from those roots we meet with their representatives of the Accords. Likely, since he's one of theirs no doubt, they will meet to inform them and give them the opportunity to take action before they do so themselves. If they do take interest it will be out of our hands completely, if not then it will be in our hands completely. Simple as that."

Harry's brow creased as he heard that, though since it was from Morgan he was taking it with a grain of salt. "How are they Warlock's Morgan? Is their magic truly that evil?"

Gravely the man nodded his head, "They legalized several forms of mind magic, actively using some of it on non magial folk without care. They have whole branches of magic dedicated with ways to kill and maim and torture. They teach their students how to transfigure things as a form of self defense, not even warning the students about the dangers of transforming a person. The only Law they don't break on a regular basis is the seventh law, and that's because they specialize so much they probably _can't _summon Outsiders. It may be against their laws to enthrall, kill or raise the dead, but they do not make it a point to get rid of such undesirables!"

Seeing how passionate Morgan was about these… things, he went to ask again, "What about their magic, what about their brand of Evocation?"

Here he saw Morgan smirking at him, something that scared him quite frankly, "Ah, now I see, you want to use these dark arts for yourself!"

"What?! No!" but his protest was cut short by the older Warder, who was internally smirking at the man's flustered expression.

"Don't deny it warlock, but the truth is you can't! Only they can learn it. They are a breed apart from us true wizards."

"A breed apart?" he asked sullenly.

"Aye, They are born with a natural flair for evocation. The wizard who Harry studies under is going to find the boy to be an excellent student in that field. It was a thousand years ago that they started standardizing their magic. Four of their greatest created a school, where they taught the students how to do magic, focusing on evocation for the most part. Since those four were the greatest the students did magic just as those four did, and so on and so forth. All Evocationist use wands to do their special brand of magic."

"So will Harry be able to learn both ways?" Dresden asked.

Morgan hesitated hear, "Aye." He said reluctantly, "It could be possible. It requires belief, as I said, so long as he believes their brand of magic is possible and that he can do it too, then he should be able to do both theirs and our brands of magic… A truly frightening possibility."

"Why Morgan?" he asked, leaning forward to look at the man intently, "What makes it so special?"

"Because, Dresden!" he said with a slightly raised voice, "Where our brand of evocation is strong and fast theirs is all the faster, if not stronger. A wave of a wand and a single word can stun a man, make them drop their weapon's, or even kill them. With time all they need to do is wave a stick to kill a man… and they teach it to children at the age of eleven! That's how I knew he was one of them, Harry, he's too young to have come into his magic yet, by any of _our_ standards, yet by theirs it is the perfect timing. Can you imagine it Harry, if that boy were to learn both ways, a Wizard that can send out spells of pure energy with the greatest of ease from one hand while summoning the winds or fire to distract others or protect himself with the other, who wouldn't be limited by which elements or skills he is better with, but by what he reads in a book and at the same time being able to wield the great powers we ourselves are taught?"

They stopped talking their that night… there was nothing else to say

* * *

For the first day they sat in the little house in central Surrey, waiting for the summons from the Senior Council that never came, though only Big Harry had really expected it to come. They sat there, introducing Little Harry, as the warders around the base had decided to call them, to the world of magic, telling the boy about the Sight and soulgazing and the power of a person's name, and the different people who came in and out of the house.

Warders, wizards, lower level spell casters. That was something Little Harry had a hard time understanding, "If they can all do magic then why aren't they all wizards?"

The truth was that the large difference between power and skill levels. Wizards were the strongest and most skilled, generally speaking, though they were closely followed by Sorcerers and Sorceresses. Weaker in terms of raw power, usually, and generally they didn't have the broad range of skills a true wizard had. After them came witches, a name used for both male and females. A witch was someone who did not have a skill in evocation, making them good for thaumaturgy.

Thaumaturgy is the more ritualized version of magic, drawing circles or power, going through long cleansing processes, voodoo, making amulets and trinkets, that kind of stuff. To put it simply, do on the small scale to effect the large scale. Where evocation was quick and dirty, thaumaturgy is slow and dirty. Also with rituals like that one doesn't need to rely on their own strength alone, there are a number of alternative sources where power to fuel such spells can be drawn.

Second last were Magicians, as they were called, these are the people who only had a small bit of skill with evocation, a burst of fire maybe, or a bright light. A really skilled magician would be pushing his skills by trying to command electricity to stun someone, as if from a tazer.

The last group were those simply called practitioners. These are the masses, the people who had _a_ magical talent. Maybe they could brew potions, were alright at making circles, or were an alright enchanter. Hell, Harry had met practitioners who were better than he was at potion brewing.

The other big difference between a wizard and all the others, though, was the ability to open the Third Eye, allowing a person to see the truth of the world around them… or hear it, or smell it, of taste or feel, and the ability to Soulgaze to see into the soul of another, to know them as well, and in some cases better, than they know themselves. They were both very powerful, personal, and used wrong, dangerous.

These were two of the abilities that were required for a man or woman to become a wizard. Truth be told, if you could achieve both of those you most likely had both the will (Third eye) and raw magical power (Soulgaze) to become a wizard. Not to say of course that _only_ wizards had these, but only a true wizard had both… usually.

Big Harry had even offered to Soulgaze with Little Harry to show him, though the latter refused, saying he could wait. Dresden actually thought for the best afterwards, realizing that if he shared something so personal with the boy and then had to leave him… perhaps the kid was smarter than he was after all, lord knows Morgan had been saying it.

They had also taken the day, supposedly by orders of the Council, to test Harry's academic abilities. Math, writing, reading, music, drawing, logic, problem solving skills. And truth be told they were amazed.

Sure, he wasn't a genius, but the kid could add and subtract numbers into the triple digits and knew decimals, was able to write all of his letters and most of his words right, even though he was a bit sloppy. Far better though was his ability to draw, which would come in handy with his training, and was both very logical and could figure out how to solve a problem that Harry knew from experience (as in having suffered through) would have some high school students stumped. As for his reading abilities, they already knew he was reading on a high school level, and were not disappointed when the kid had been able to read back whatever they asked of him, almost perfectly. (Morgan had thrown in some Latin that both Harry's struggled on.)

It was also, near the end of the day, when Harry saw the warders bring in two individuals, black bags over their heads, and lock them in the confines of the basement. Dresden hadn't been going to mention what it was, though the old commander for the Warders had no such problems.

"Those are Warlocks boy." As if it answered everything, which in truth it did if you knew what a warlock was.

"What's a warlock sir?" Harry asked innocently, making Morgan glare at the boy's older counter part.

Looking back down at the boy he explained, "Tell me, Dresden told you of the laws of magic?" getting a nod he went on, "Warlock is the name we give to those who break the Law's. It's the Warders job to enforce the Laws and, when needed, take care of warlocks."

Scrunching his brow a little, Harry looked up at the man, "How do you take care of them?" he asked confusedly.

Big Harry would have stopped the conversation right then if he had the choice, but technically speaking, this was why they came to speak to Harry in the first place. "Decapitation." The man said bluntly, pulling free his silver sword to show the boy. Furrowing his brow in concentration the boy thought of what the word meant. Dresden could tell when he remembered, because he paled and became a sickly green before running from the room.

"Nice going, num nut's!" Harry yelled at the Warder, who actually looked surprised at the reaction.

* * *

It was nearly four on the second day when they received the summons from the Senior Council, an informal hearing they were told. Dresden knew it would be a deciding moment for the young boy at his side and felt more helpless than ever before.

After the drive into Greater London, in the same beaten up pickup truck, they entered the lobby of a swanky downtown hotel, getting quite a surprise after they entered.

"Hoss! What have you been getting yourself into _now?_" asked a man from behind them, with a strong American southern accent.

Hearing this Big Harry turned quickly, placing his young ward behind him instinctively, "Ebenezer?" he asked, almost not believing his eye's? Running up to the man he gave him a quick hug, dragging Little Harry along with. Remembering when he had first met the man he placed the boy in front of him, putting a deadly serious face on, "Harry, this is Wizard Ebenezer McCoy. Wizard McCoy, this is Harry, a young practitioner who will be meeting with the Council soon."

Any smile that may have been on the old Scottish man from Missouri's face left then, "That ain't funny, hoss, and you know it! Three years I had to put this city slicker," he stage whispered to the young child in front of him, bending down to do so, "three years and still not a lick of respect." Then, putting out a hand he introduced himself with a small smile on his old face, "Hello boy, as you heard my name is Ebenezer, su'pleasure to meet you."

"Harry Potter sir." He said, shaking the offered hand.

The man's smile grew, "Ah, boy, never give your name to someone. There are people, and creatures, that if they know your name they can and will use it against you."

Harry's eyes went wide at hearing this, remembering it as something the adults had mentioned to him but he hadn't remembered. "How can they use my name?" he asked, wonderingly. He had heard big Harry say his name before though…

Standing up he looked down at the kid, "Well, when your name is uttered from your own lips it reflects on who you truly are, and when a person can say your name perfectly right they can gain some semblance of control over you. Never give out a middle name unless you absolutely must and if you can use a nick name for your first name."

Harry nodded, thinking this over. He was Harold James Potter… so Harry Potter wasn't his _true_ name…

While he was thinking about this though the older two had started talking. "Hoss, what have you done now?" questioned McCoy, looking at his former student.

"What I had to sir. When the kid wrote back to me, telling _me_ about the magic _he_ had done… well I couldn't do nothing."

"Ya, Hoss, and nothing you didn't do." He replied, "Any why couldn't yur something been to hand it off to Morgan? He's a big boy now!"

Harry looked down at the top of Harry's head, smiling when he saw the boy wasn't listening to their conversation, "It _was_ my first reaction, and then Morgan decided that the big bad 'warlock' that he's been hounding for the past eight years is wizard enough to represent the council."

The southern man just laughed at this, walking with them as they entered a small conference room, not giving Dresden a chance to ask why _he_ was here. Sitting at the table were six men and women who would be handing Little Harry his fate.

First on the Harry's left as they walked in was Aleron LaFortier, a skeletally thin Frenchmen, one of Harry's biggest "supporters" on the council. After Harry had been handed over to the Warders he had pushed for immediate execution.

Next to him was a large burly Russian man, with near solid white hair and a body of a man in his late thirties. Dresden hadn't had too much interaction with the man, though he was _the_ source on vampire information. The fact that he voted not to cut Harry's head off took him far in that book.

Next was the single creepiest person, male or female, the tall man had ever met in his life: Ancient Mai. He wasn't sure she was a hundred percent human, but to short Asian lady, with her granite colored hair and rheumy eyes could make the hardest of Warders flinch. Her vote: off with his head.

In the center of the table, and in the tallest chair, was the head of the council, The Merlin, Arthur Langtry. Harry hater number one and the man to first move for execution, even if his lap dog LaFortier was the hardest to push. An old brit, he had been around since before the British empire, when the states had been thirteen penny pinching colonies.

Next to the Merlin was the only 'true' American wizard, as he liked to put it: Listens-to-Wind… I kid you not. He was an old native American shaman from when the Europeans settled down in north America. Nice guy, if a little strange, and he voted _for_ Harry so that was good.

Next to him was Martha Liberty, an African American wizard with legs to kill for, standing just over Harry's six' six". She was in the middle ground, being more conservative than some like Listens-to-Wind but far less so than the Ancient Mai or the Merlin. In fact it was her that was able to suggest the Doom of Damocles over death for Harry, which had been nice… Yeah, not dying is nice…

Last was the Gatekeeper, covered in long black clothe that only left his eye's revealed… not much was known about him, though he was pretty much neutral in all instances of council business, save where he is the deciding vote. Harry wondered why the man he voted for him to keep his head… not that he was complaining of course.

The last thing he noticed, besides the sitting council members, was that there were no chairs for anyone else. Yup, typical council.

The Merlin was the first to speak, "Well, now that we're _finally_ all here, let us begin the proceedings. Warder Commander Donald Morgan, your testimony please."

Stepping forward, ignoring Big Harry's whispers of 'Donald?' he proceeded to talk, "Aye, at around thirteen hundred hours, Central Standard Time, I paid a visit to the office of one Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden, performing a bimonthly check on him under the clause of the Doom of Damocles and as is one of the jobs given to me by the White Council. When I arrived Wizard Dresden showed me a letter he had received from the child in question two days past, after having told the child of his own wizarding skills."

After saying this he pulled free said letter, which he had confiscated from Harry before meeting him at McAnally, and handed it to the nearest Council member, the Gatekeeper. For some reason Harry didn't like the smile that crossed the face of some of the members, "The letter written indicates that the child had been performing accidental acts of Evocation magic for the past few years. Wizard Dresden and I proceeded through the Nevernever to a regulated exit point in central Surrey and then, after finding the boy's home address from the local school, to the residence, Number Four Privet Drive in the town of Little Whinging. There, after speaking to the boy's uncle and subduing him, I proceeded to check the home for any other potential threats."

"And were there any?" asked the Merlin, looking as bored as he sounded.

"Aye, a female whom I subdued temporarily."

"What was the state of the boy's living condition Donald?" asked LaFortier this time.

"Despicable. From what I saw in my inspection of the house there were four bedrooms, one belonging to the aunt and uncle, one for his cousin, a guest room, and a second bedroom for the cousin."

Martha Liberty asked here, her brow creased, "Where then did the boy sleep? Was it the guest room?"

"No ma'am, from what I could tell he slept in the cupboard under the stairs." Suddenly they didn't all seem so bored, "Furthermore, upon arrival we heard the sound of hammering, and when we entered the home there were signs that indicated that the uncle was boarding up the door to the cupboard under the stairs."

"Where was the child to sleep then?" asked the Merlin, already knowing the answer and having a dark look about his eye's.

"He was still inside the closet when the man had started boarding it up." The room was quiet for a second as they all digested that, "Upon ensuring the child safety I called the local Warder safe house and initiating the council's procedure for aiding young practitioners. Said procedure was created to help those who are in abusive or inattentive homes while still underage." Glancing sideways at Dresden he continued, "Though the last time it was used it was to ensure the proper transfer of guardianship from one Justin DuMorne to Ebenezer McCoy."

Harry swallowed, not knowing what to say, he hadn't known that. Not being able to think of anything to say he was quiet, letting the Merlin carry on.

"If there are no more question's than may we finish with this: What other signs of abuse were present?"

"In that matter, as well as the update on the child's current education, I shall defer to Wizard Dresden, as he has spent more time with the child." And then, chest and head held high, he stepped back.

Suddenly Harry was aware of the seven sets of eyes all on him… no, make that nine, Morgan and Ebenezer were looking at him too. He was a little disparaged to see the smile that had crept onto the skull like face of LaFortier was still there, possibly even larger.

"Very well, commander, thank you for your help." Said the British wizard with a hard face, "Wizard Dresden, same question."

Licking his lips he swallowed once more, stepping forward, mentally reminding himself that it wasn't a time for wise talk.

"Sir, one what other signs of abuse there were? Um… Harry, I mean the child in question is small, even for his age. If you lift up his shirt you can clearly see his ribs and he should have more meat on his bones. The one time that I raised my voice he flinched, indicating that he's been yelled at and beaten before." He stopped here at a gesture from the Ancient Mai.

"Wizard, you claim that these, indicated, something. Where do you, a twenty four year old male with no children of your own, draw such a conclusion?"

Standing up straighter he looked at the woman, not quite meeting her eye's. Harry may not be a lot of things, but professional is one thing he most certainly _is,_ "Ma'am, with all due respect, I have spent the last three years working for an investigative office, Ragged Angle Investigators, that specializing in missing, kidnapped, and run away children. I've seen a lot of children who had been abused in a lot of different ways. Is that all or did you have some other concerns?" he asked coldly.

"That is all, carry on."

And so he did, "Further is the fact that the boy _told_ me that his uncle had hit him before, mentioning that he did so whenever he did accidental magic." He stopped here, letting what he said sink in, glad to know he had produced more than a few grumbles among those present.

The Merlin raised his hand, bringing silence to the room. "Ancient Mai, when you take the child for test's Joseph will also perform a basic check up." Getting a nod in response from both the Mai and Listens-to-Wind he went on, "What of his cognitive abilities?" and so Harry told them of the results from the test's he and Morgan had given him the day prior.

When the Merlin went to dismiss him though the French man made him move,

"Wizard Dresden, if I may?" asked LaFortier.

"Yes?" already knew where this would be going.

"Tell me, what prompted you to inform a child of the world of magic? What was the precedent that you used to judge whether a six year old child could be trusted with such knowledge?"

Well, they say that the truth will set you free, "Because, Council member, it is not in my nature to lie to people, particularly children."

"So, are we to believe, that you think that breeches of information on the White Council are acceptable, just because you don't feel like lying?" Ok, so _they_ were wrong, lying set's you free.

"Knowledge of Magic is _not_ a breech in information. Had I told him of the going on's of the Council it may be true, but he is both a child and magical in nature himself. As such he had a right-"

"Wrong Wizard!" the man yelled, looking down on Harry, even while sitting, "He has yet to be proven as magical, you are just going off the basis that he _thinks_ he did magic. Furthermore he would _only_ have a right to know of this council _if_ he were to be apprenticed to a wizard."

"Ah, quiet you!" bellowed the large Russian man, his voice slightly cracking, "The White Council is in place to inform of, enforce, and argue over the Laws of Magic and our kinds placement in the world. No where does it say we are meant to keep ourselves secreted away from _everyone_!"

"That is not the point! HE," here he pointed a boney finger at Dresden, "is a threat to the Council and must be silenced!"

"Enough Aleron." Came a quiet voice from the Merlin. "This is not why we are gathered here today."

The man was about to retort when he saw who it was talking. "Yes sir." Though the glare he was shooting Harry promised more later.

"You may step down Wizard Dresden. Let the child come forth."

Walking back he gave the child a small push forward, knowing he couldn't be enjoying this.

"Please state your name." said Arthur, looking down at a form that needed to be filled out.

"Harry." Was all he said in a small voice.

"Your _full_ name." a tick of annoyance entering his voice. When the child said nothing he looked up at him, "Well?"

Looking up at the man worriedly he put up a hand an ran back to his older counterpart, whispering in his ear, making the man laugh. Walking back Dresden went with him.

"Sorry sir, Ebenezer told the kid about true names and he doesn't want to say his out loud." This made the old brit raise an eyebrow, though he motioned for him to continue. In a flat, monotone, voice he said "Harold James Potter."

"Thank you Wizard Dresden. Now Harold, can you please tell us about your life with the Dursly's?"

And so he did, starting by telling them about the different chores he would have to do, and then about his cousin, his 'room,' and the times he would try and tell someone and the beatings he would get. Then he moved on to speak of his 'magic,' about the wind and the wig and regrowing his hair. The he spoke of writing to Big Harry and realizing what he could do.

After all was said and done he was more than a little flustered, his eyes watering slightly.

"Thank you Harold. We will have a short break, where Joseph and Mai will examine Harold for both signs of magic and to check on his health." And with that two of the council stood, walking towards the Harry's.

"Come, these members of the council will talk amongst themselves and after we are done you two can be together again.

Soon the three went off together and Dresden was walking out the door, noticing that _Donald_ and Ebenezer had stayed behind.

Outside the door he stopped and tried to Listen, a useful skill he had discovered. Truth be told he wasn't even sure it was a magical ability, but he could concentrate and hear things that others couldn't… but this time he had nothing, _'Probably have the room warded against eavesdroppers.'_

Idly he also noted the complete lack of security.

* * *

It was nearly an hour later when the young raven haired boy was returned to Harry, who patted him down making wisecracks at the kid.

"Still in once piece, eh? I've heard stories about that old woman, you know, Hansel and Gretel, the Wizard of Oz." getting a few laughs from the kid he asked what happened.

"She put a blind fold over my head and had me hold onto this ice cold ring, asking me to tell her things, like what I like to do, or more about the Dursly's. After that was done she told me it was to try and make me feel intense emotion's. Then she made me drink this really sweet water that made me really tired, telling me to think about magic, what I want to learn to do and what I think I'll be able to do."

"And what about Listens-to-window's, the old healer guy." The little nick-name made Harry laugh.

"He just looked over me, giving me another thing to drink and then pulled out this little wood drum on a stick and waved it over me a few times, speaking too quiet for me to hear." For the remainder of the time, until they were called back in, Harry told Harry about Listens-to-Wind's pet baby raccoon, Little Brother, which had been in his 'medicine bag' the entire time they were talking during the meeting.

Walking back in he noted that only the Gatekeeper and Listens-to-Wind didn't look angry or frazzled, even Morgan had his jaw tightened while McCoy looked red faced.

'_No good can come of this.'_ He thought to himself silently.

"Harry, please come forward." Said the Merlin, looking like he would rather be anywhere else than there. Instantly both younger and older walked up, "_Harold_, step forward."Rubbing the back of his head the elder of the two took a couple steps back.

"Harold James Potter. You were brought here due to the poor state of your living conditions with your family. Being found both magical and having had the abuse of your home recognized by a representative the extended White Council we have hereby chosen to remove you from your home on number Four Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey, and place your with a guardian that has been preselected due to the nature of the Endangered Apprentice Rule, created by this body. Wizard Dresden, please step forward."

Doing so Harry looked up at the head of his order, ice clenching his gut, feeling as if something important were about to occur, "Wizard Dresden… I do not like you. Since you will not lie then neither will I. If I had my choice you would not be a part of the White Council, now or ever. I. Do. Not. Trust. You! As it is you shall receive compensation for your act as guardian in the sum of sixty thousand dollars for each six month you are his guardian, up until he is either eighteen or he has become a full wizard of the White Council." Taking breath here the Merlin was interrupted by the Elder Harry.

"Sir, with all due respect, what the _fuck_ are you talking about?" this drew every eye in the room, even Little Harry's.

"Wizard Dresden," started Martha Liberty, "Are you trying to say…" she cut off hear, being cowed from the laughter of the large Russian man, a small chuckle coming from the stoic Gatekeeper.

"Wizard Dresden!" said the Merlin, yelling over the noise his fellow wizard was making, though the man quieted down after that, "I am talking about your Guardianship over one Harold James Potter, your new apprentice."

"Apprentice?" he asked in disbelief, noticing the radiant smile on the child's face.

"Indeed, I may not like it, but with the recommendation of Warder Commander Morgan and your own teacher, one Ebenezer McCoy we of the Senior Council have convened and do hereby lift the Doom of Damocles from your head. You are very lucky, Dresden. If it had been anyone else other than a man who had wished to swing the sword himself I doubt it would have happened for another decade or two, at least! Now, if you will take your apprentice and leave, this body has things we must discuss still."

Grabbing his ward, who was as giddy as a kid in a candy shop, he left, followed by Morgan.

As soon as the door was closed and the ward had reset itself the eyes of the council turned to McCoy.

"Well Blackstaff? Is it done?" asked the Ancient Mai, looking down at the standing man.

"It is, ma'am. The records have all been moved around and Harry Potter has been entrusted as a Ward of the White Council. Furthermore I have contacted the Evocationist's, as was your wish, and have set up a date for the Council to meet with them."

This time the Merlin spoke, "And what, Eben, do you plan to do about that despicable family the boy was staying with." Any could see the anger in the man's eyes.

"Fear not Arthur, you and I _both_ feel about those types. I can assure you, you'll be able to read about it on the front page of the Guardian when it happens."

The smile that crept across the man's face could have melted steel or frozen air.


	3. The Spoils of War Intro and chapter 1

Once again I must stress that if you have any questions, comments, requests, ect. or would like to try your hand at my stories, drop me a review or pm. I would love to hear from you. And thank you to the two people who have reviewed, your comments on Lord Ravenclaw were much appreciated.

Ok, third story for the set, and since they were small enough I included the short intro and the first chapter already done.

The Story is :The Spoils of War. Name comes from the trait Harry picks up from his mentor, trophy collecting. Teeth, feathers, wands, artifacts, ect. They are a MAJOR part of the plot of the story. I'll give a small spoiler for example: the sword of Gryffindor. Most people think it makes Harry over powered, I on the other hand think; "Geez, this wizard who created a fully conscience hat that is able to invade the mind of others and seemingly cant be stopped yet his sword is special because someone else made it that way? I think not!" Gryffindor was an adventurer and in this story it would reflect that. Being wacked in the nads or getting his legs tangled up because Harry wont go looking for adventure seems the kind of thing Godric's sword would do.

To put it bluntly, Harry is not evil and only slightly dark. I would phrase it rather as following the low road. He's a survivor, not a hero. He wont be learning fifteen different kinds of martial arts or using magic that no one else in his generation would ever have a chance of using. In fact, magic wise, hes going to have one single branch of magic- eventual parsalmagic- that he will use and others wont. Skill wise he will be good though. You don't need to know how to use martial arts to survive…. Knowing how to throw a punch and not break your hand is quite useful though.

Prologue

Briskly walking between the tents of the carnival a man can be seen, wearing a nearly all black outfit and a dark blue duffle bag strapped around his chest. Nice worn boots, black slacks, and a shirt that fits tight over him, though that is how it was made, and shows off his muscles and gives plenty of freedom of movement. Usually there would a nice loose cloak over the outfit, hiding the two gun's, multiple knives, handcuff's, ammo, pepper spray, and several other strange objects, none of which looked like they fit in the rest of his arsenal. After all, why would a couple of stick's, a yoyo, and a golden cup be hanging from his belt, right next a grenade?

Though muscular the skin of the man's goateed face was stretched tight, giving him a near skeletal look and the ends of his fingers, which could be seen through the cut off gloves, were also similarly boney, though covered in calluses.

From time to time he would look back, almost as if he was being followed, which was highly likely, seeing as _whom _he was. Personally he wasn't too worried. Yes he had been seen, yes it was from a member of the Ministry, and yes, he had taken something from a bank right before he had been seen. But he was him! He was invincible…

Finally reaching the car lot he saw a small family of four getting into their car, though the father yelled at the last to wipe his feet before he got in. Taking his chance he ran up and, just as the child was standing up, grabbed the boy, spinning as he did so and pulling both of them into the back seat of the car.

With that same fluid motion he snapped his arm out, releasing a knife from his forearm. "Hello family!" he said cheerfully with his deep raspy voice.

The large man driving the car turned purple as he turned around, ready to yell before he saw the knife, while his wife just fainted. Pointing the knife at the small boy in his arms he ordered the man, "Drive out of here, we're going to your house!"

Seeing the stranger put the weapon to his freak of a nephew's throat Vernon Dursly couldn't help but smile. He could kill two birds with one stone here. Get rid of the abomination, protect his family, and maybe even get a reward for capturing a criminal.

Seeing the smile on the man's face the man moved quickly, spinning the knife and moving his arm so it lay against the neck of the larger of the two boy's neck. Seeing the smile slip off the man's face he frowned, "Drive." He said flatly.

Once they were off the fair grounds he relaxed a little. None of the Auror's would look for him in a car packed with muggle's. Turning his head he looked down at the boy he had originally held the knife to. He seemed oddly familiar, though he didn't know why. Messy hair that stuck up in the back and came down far enough to cover his forehead in the front, strangely small, loose baggy clothes… Like every other teen you meet these days, though he couldn't be more than six. "Your father doesn't like you very much does he?" he asked with a little chuckle on his voice, absently noticing the darkening color of the large man's skin.

"He's… He's my uncle… My parents are dead." The boy replied downcast eye's. Apparently he had seen the smile on his uncles face too.

"Meh." He said with a shrug, looking out the back window real quick, though that was more of a nervous tick at this point than actual worry. He had been on the run for years, "Dead they may be, but gone they are not. They simply await you on the other side of the Veil." Every good pureblood knew that much, no harm in letting a wee muggle kid know it.

"The Veil?" he asked, looking up at the man curiously, "What's the Veil?" Vernon had turned a interesting shade of magenta at this point.

"Stop asking question's boy!" he yelled, not used to the child being so inquisitive in years.

Slapping the back of the man's head, making the car swerve slightly, he turned to the boy. "The Veil is what divides the world of the living from the world of the dead." He answered, noticing the boy's aunt's eye's fluttering open. "When out body's die Death comes to us all and leads us into the world beyond the Veil."

"Sounds nicer than what I've been told about death." He murmured demurely.

The man smiled a bit at that, it really did sound better than what some others believed, "And what have you bee told?" he asked softly. He really did have a soft spot for children, he had to admit, though he was never gifted with one himself and didn't plan on staying still long enough to have one any time soon.

"That they were burning in hell with all the rest of the witches and that I'd be burning right next to them for the rest of eternity." The boy responded, as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.

Pulling the knife away from the fat childs neck he pointed it at his aunt, looking on with incredulous eyes, "Why the HELL would you tell a child THAT!?" he asked, outraged. "He's only a boy!"

Looking him straight in the eye's Petunia answered honestly from the heart, "No he's not. He's a filthy freak, just like his parent's."

Without looking away his arm moved, smashing into Dudley's face three time's, the first breaking his jaw, the second his nose, and the third on the forehead, stunning him, "Do not touch the wand's kid." He said before raising the knife back to the horse like woman, noticing, as the car swerved, her eye's widen when he said 'wand.'

"Magic." He said, getting a small gasp from the woman. He bellowed, "You're a freaking Squib!" he laughed, sitting back into his seat, "So the boy's parents were a Witch and Wizard then?" he asked, getting no response from the woman, who appeared to have gone into shock. Looking down at the boy in question he saw a wide eye's and creased brow. "Right, more of that later."

It was minutes later that the boy had bent forward to look at Dudley, with his now smashed in face.

"What did you do to him?" Harry asked.

The man smiled at the childish curiosity. "A simple three hits with the back of the hand. You see hit certain parts of the body and you get certain results. The face and head in particularly vulnerable. Hit the eye's and they can't see, the nose and it becomes harder to breath, the jaw and it's harder for them to call out, the forehead and you can stun them a little. I got the jaw, nose, and forehead."

Seeing him smile he sat back, noticing they had pulled into a particularly nice neighborhood.

When they pulled up to number four Privet Drive he felt like wanted to puke. This was everything he HATED about muggles, right here. So normal, so plain, so… boring. Not to mention abusive, if they had actually told the boy that about his parents.

The boy…

Now that they said that the parents were magical he had to admit, he was curious. Did he know them? He couldn't have been born more than a year or two before the Dark Lords fall… hmmm.

Ushering them into the house he had them all sit on the floor while he took the couch. Looking down on them he asked, "Okay family, what's your name? Hmm?" when there was no forthcoming answer he sighed, "Fine I'll start, my name is Rabastan Lestrange. You are?" he gestured for one of them to answer, though none of the three largest there would answer.

"Their the Dursly's." came a little voice from behind Dudley, who nearly eclipsed the young boy completely.

"Oh?" Rabastan said with a quirked eyebrow, quickly thinking of any magical with the name Dursly, "_They_ are? And what of you, my little wizard? You are not a Dursly then?" the boy's was infuriatingly familiar, _why!_

"No, my aunt and uncle wouldn't adopt me, my last name is Potter." the boy said calmly, looking at the older man with an interested look.

Lestrange's taut face would have slackened if it was capable of doing so, though years of little food and overly much time to exercise and practice had taken away nearly all the fat from his body, leaving him with enough to live.

"Harry Potter…. My, my, my… what and interesting meeting fate has put before us." His eye's did not blink, his gaze did not waver, he just stared at the boy, now recognizing the messy hair of his youngest sisters killer and the green penetrating eye's that had been on charms mistress who crafted some of the most devastating spells used during the war. Putting his hand forward he brushed aside the boy's hair, not realizing he was now off the couch and bent over in front of the child.

The silence in the room was deafening.

And there was the scar from surviving the killing curse. The place where he had reflected the attack back at his master…

Abruptly he stood, he had left that life behind long ago. There was no more Dark Lord, there was no more Lestrange family either as far as the world was concerned. "Goodbye Harry Potter, it was a pleasure meeting you." And with that he walked for the door.

Harry never knew why he did what he did next, even when he eventually learned Occlumency years later. Perhaps it was because the man had answered more question's than any of his family had. Or maybe because he had smiled at Harry in way that no one else ever had, not even his teachers or the school nurse or even Ms. Figg, the nice if strange lady that lived down the street. Maybe it was just the fact that the man had known his first name without ever being told. Or that he apparently had magic. Or that he appeared to be strong. Or a million other reason's he would come up with over the years.

"Wait!" he yelled, standing up, running after the man, "Take me with you!" he asked desperately, grabbing onto the man's arm.

To Harry's amazement he didn't shake him off the arm, instead grabbing on to the boy's arms and pulling him up to eye level. "Why should I do that?" he asked, looking greatly troubled. _'Why would I want too? Why _do_ I want too?'_ "A man needs to look out for themselves in this world. He needs to be strong and depend on no one but themselves and worry about no one but themselves." Just as father had trained him and Rodolphus, not that they had listened to him when it came to one another or the dark lord… at least not until the end that is. "If I take you with me then I have to protect you, risk myself for you, and I might not be as strong as I need to be… So Why should I bother?"

Looking the man in the eye's Harry was not a scared as he should have been, "Because I can be strong too! I can help you. I…" he choked here, "I can promise, you won't have to worry about me ever! If I'm not good enough then you can feed me to the dog's! Please," he begged, "Take me with you."

Off in the distance Rabastan could hear the sounds of siren's. Looking into the living room he saw Petunia was no longer sitting down on the floor. He could have seen this as a sign of things to come in years to come, why he never trusted another, why he usually shot first and asked question's later. Instead he made a decision.

Letting the boy go he walked towards the window. "Is there a back door?" he asked, Harry.

"Yeah, though the kitchen. My uncle just took money out of the bank today to do grocery shopping too, he should have a few hundred pounds in his wallet. He's got a shotgun upstairs too if you want it." He listed off, watching as the first car pulled up into the lawn before he felt an arm on his shoulder, pulling him away from the window.

"No time for the gun." He said as he kicked Vernon, who had been attempting to stand, in the back. Reaching down he pulled out the wallet, throwing it to the boy, "Hold on to that, don't lose it, and keep up." And with that he took off for the back of the house, Harry not far behind.

Both of them were able to jump the low fence into the next yard no problem before Harry spoke up, "This way!" He whispered loudly, leading the man between two houses, "If we can get to the park unseen we'll be able to walk through the woods almost all the way to Ockham common And follow the A3 into Greater London… After that though I'm lost."

"Good enough." The older man muttered before he and Harry ran across the street into the wooded park.

---

'_And so the whole world shall be lit aflame.'_

_---_

One weeks later

Spain, some ways northwest of Cariño,

---

One week… So much had happen in one week. Harry had seen things he had never expected to see and even some things he had thought weren't even real.

Like magic.

Looking across the fire at the man he had followed from his 'home,' he thought about magic. After four hours of running that night they had stopped for a break, when he had seen his first bit of magic; conjuration.

Using one of the two wands that dangled from his waist Rabastan had conjured himself a thin loose cloak to hide his weapon's and other objects. He had then done something to Harry's clothing when he noticed the boy was still with him, if breathing quite hard. The sweater had tightened and the pants had shortened and his shoe's seemed to blow up, seeing as they were more duct tape than shoe, forcing the man to laugh before conjuring him some shoes too.

It had been amazing… though jacking a lift from a small family of three after they had reached the road had not been fun… That little girl just stared at him before muttering something, listing off multiplication's tables it heard like… Rab had been amused by the bushy haired girl before saying random numbers to throw her off.

After that they had gone, not east to London, but west to the middle of nowhere. Rab had explained that they needed to get lost before they could hop off the island. Three days after that, and not a lot of talking during which, they had taken a two day trip in a smelly and creaky old fishing boat to Cariño, Spain.

They had arrived late last night and had spent the night gathering supplies with the money they had gotten off of Vernon…

Oh, how good it felt to be free of that man! Sure he had read the posting looking for information on him and Rab, but still he was free.

They had head out from Cariño at three and after a little walking had reached their current campsite. Over the flames was their dinner, boiling away in what appeared to be a collapsible cauldron. Strange that. Across from him Rab was whittling away at one of two sticks he had picked up on their way out here. The first had been done while they were walking.

"Potter!" Lestrange called, his dark eye's looking like solid jet as Harry met them. "Come here boy. Take off your shirt and pant's so I can get a look at you." At this Harry froze, halfway to standing. Rab wouldn't… touch him, would he?

Seeing the look on the boy's face Rabastan didn't know whether he should laugh or scowl, so he went for both, "Boy, trust me, I am fond of children, but not like that! If your going to be hanging around then I need to see what I have to work with."

A little uneasy Harry complied, undressing quickly and walking around the fire so Rab could see him. The man appeared to be weighing the young boy like a horse or a piece of meat, muttering under his breath while he did so; grabbing his calves, hitting his thighs, "Good lifting strength there… be a good runner…" his arms and squeezing them after having the boy make the largest muscle he could, "Interesting… But why?"

Then he asked the boy to turn around, revealing his scared back from his uncles beatings with the belt. Though the man didn't say anything here he did take one loud deep breath in and out, gently touching one of the larger ones with a single finger, tracing it down from shoulder to hip.

Harry remembered that one proudly. He had denied his uncle the satisfaction of seeing him cry or hearing him yell when he had gotten that one. He had done his best on the final exams from school just three months ago and the Dursly's had gotten calls and visits from his teachers demanding he be let into an advanced class and possibly even a school for gifted youths. He had only started school a little while ago, but they had demanded he dumb himself down to make Dudley look good. And in class he did so, but when they had country wide testing he had refused to play dumb…

"Show me your hands." Rabastan said, spinning him around by the shoulder. So he lifted up his own calloused hands from gardening all summer and spring and for the small portion of the fall he had spent with the Dursly's before Rab had showed up. "Good…" he muttered once more.

Harry didn't know it, but in another time, in another world altogether this would have been the peak of his youth before receiving a letter. Not yet had this Harry been so thoroughly beaten and trampled and starved and worked to exhaustion. Another year at most and he would have been hidden away from the world and downcast to the point that an excursion like this would have never happened… Then again, in another would two brothers would have never fought and one man would have never arrived at the Surrey Carnival…

"Tell me boy, what do you do for fun?" he asked, whittling the stick once more, looking at Harry questioningly.

'_What _do_ I do for fun?'_ he thought to himself, realizing he didn't have a real answer. "Um… well I guess I _do_ like some of the gardening I did for the Dursly's… and cooking wasn't too bad, I'm not too shabby when I have a kitchen to work in I guess." The man just stared at him for a second, apparently not expecting the answer he had gotten.

"You like to garden… and cook?" he asked with a frown on his face.

Harry blushed a little, "Well, yes, but… Well you asked what I do for fun, but I don't really do anything for fun, so I thought about what I like and those were the only two things at the Dursly's that I guess I liked doing."

The older man snorted before responding, "What sort of things did you do for them?" he asked genuinely curious.

"Cooking, cleaning, gardening, moving furniture around, mowing the lawn with the push mower, taking care of Dudley's different pet's over the years before he kills them one way or another. This summer they 'rented me out' for a couple of weeks to one of aunt Marge's neighbors. Worked me to death on his farm he did, though he actually fed me pretty well."

"Can you read?" seeing Harry's nod he inquired on the largest thing he's read.

"Chronicles' of Narnia. I can do my words ok too, though not in cursive."

Shaking his head Rabastan laughed before lifting the stick he had been working on, inspecting it, speaking while he did so. "I'll put it too you straight Harry; for a child your age you're a little short and thinner than I'd like to see, but you have a lot of muscle on you for a shrimp." He laughed again at Harry's protest, "And your smart enough. Never read the books you said you read but I've seen them in the book stores before, a bit big for what I'd expect, but good enough to go to Hogwarts on near enough." Harry didn't know what Hogwarts was, but still, he was good enough for it. "You can cook, which is a much needed skill when you're on the run like us. Speaking of running you did good that first night, I set a fast pace and you kept up fine."

"Needed to be fast to outrun Dudley and his friends." Harry said simply, pulling up his pants, "Dudders might not be fast, but Piers Polkiss was, and a lot meaner too."

"Heh, Well either way you did good. You'll probably be able to pick up on what plants are what and what does what pretty fast… I said it before kid, a man's needs be strong, needs know how to protect himself. You promised me I wouldn't have to worry about you… well I'm going to hold you to that… eventually. For right now I'm going to train you, teach you a few tricks, make sure you can keep your head in a fight." Then he looked straight into the eye's of the standing boy, Ebony on Emerald, "Do not disappoint me."

With those words he threw the stick to Harry, who was able to effortlessly catch it, looking at the stick in wonder.

"Defend yourself!" the older man yelled, jumping to his feet, holding the stick before him like a rapier.

Harry slept that night with an aching rib and dozens of bruises, Happier than he had ever been in his closet.

--

* * *

Chapter One

Standing up, still half asleep, young man, barely a boy, climbs down from the lot of luggage he had been resting on. He was not a tall boy, a little short for his age actually, though just, and he was already in his school robes, though instead of the white shirts others wore under their robes he had all black. Messy lock's of raven hair fell down the back of his head, a little above his shoulders and his normally nonexistent bangs were now covering his brow, hiding a lightning shaped scar.

"_ATTENTION! We will be arriving in Hogsmead Village Shortly, please leave all baggage on the train and it will be taken to the castle!"_

Blinking his green eyes open Harry stretches and yawn's, feeling the train already starting to slow down and stop.

"Finally!" All he had wanted to do was lay down and rest before they had arrived, but _nnooo!_ Everyone else got to sleep last night and insisted on bugging him like a bunch of three year olds. _'Not like _they_ had to run halfway across Europe to get to a localized floo system that would take them to the Platform!'_ he thought angrily to himself.

Though it was amusing to run into a familiar face… especially since Rab and he had jacked a ride from her and her family at knifepoint. Harry was still amazed at times by how he had spent the last five years since then. Spain, France, the States, the Amazon, the Carpathian Mountains, Cairo, China, Korea, Japan, Vietnam, which was especially fun as neither of them knew a lick of Vietnamese when the got there _or_ when they left, the Outback, and the Arctic Circle… They had been everywhere you could go to avoid civilization, not to say they always avoided civilization.

It hadn't all been fun and games either. He had his fair share of run in's with unsavory types, and Rabastan was no gentle teacher. He had spent more than a little time with bruised skin and a bruised ego. But he had come out the stronger for it.

Then in the middle of July they get a letter, via owl, letting him Harry 'know' he was a wizard, and that he had been accepted into Hogwarts. Not that that had been all too surprising, though even Rab didn't know how the bloody bird had found them so quickly in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

The man had a ball getting the boy's books, stopping off in different country's to get one of each book. His potion's text was written in Spanish, the book on herbs and fungi in French, Transfiguration in Italian, his standard book of spells in Romanian, the defense book was in Japanese, while his theory book was half Korean and half Chinese, and his creature book in Portuguese. They hadn't gone to England for a single one of his things… Heck, they had gotten his wand in Australia, though only so it would still be registered with the British Ministry of Magic.

After all of that was said and done Rabastan had gotten him a Portkey… to Germany, with six days before he needed to be in London.

He got there, barely, and had almost expected a nice quiet ride. He had lived in anonymity, if that is what you want to call it, for _way too_ long. Laying down then for the first time in two days had led to the door being opened and a loud ginger haired kid entered. Closing his eye's after that led to him re-meeting Hermoine Granger. After she had left, though not before she and Ron Weasly got a good Gawk in at him, he had rested his head against the window for a whole twenty minutes when the door opened again, and a loud, arrogant, drawl interrupted him.

From there he proceeded to the baggage compartment for the rest of the trip.

Honestly he had wished he could just stay with Lestrange for the rest of his life, just as they had been, but the man told him to go, making sure he 'got a decent education.' The words that he had been told the last night before he left still sat there taunting him.

///

"_I'm a wanted man Harry. You on the other hand may be a runaway, but you are far from being a criminal. I taught you things any good wizard should know, that any good man should know… But, you are still young, you have chances that I never will anymore, and in order to have the most choices for what you want to be in the end you need to more than what I can offer you. Hogwarts can give you what I cannot… Friends, a decent education, a home. I'm not saying goodbye, but it is here that we part ways for now. I will see you again someday, though I don't know when. Just do me a favor and bring me a trophy, will ya._

_///_

Walking out of the train Harry could hear a rather large man bellowing out "First years! First Year over here!" the man was large and clearly, to Harry at least, a half giant. It was quite funny, finding out that the Amazons of legends were really just several clan's of half-giants that had bred only between themselves for many generation's, occasionally mixing in a whole giant from time to time.

"Right, if that's all of ya, then we'll be off'ta the castle. Follow me!" and with that he turned, leading the large group of over thirty eleven year olds down to the lake, where they got their first look at Hogwarts.

Harry had seen castles before, even under the full moon as he did now… but this… the castle throbbed with power that he could nearly feel from almost a mile away. "Move!" hissed brunette from behind him, making him realize that nearly everyone else was in a boat already.

Hoping into one that already had two people in it, shortly followed by the same girl, they soon took off. One of his ship mates turned to him, introducing himself, "Names Terry, Terry Boot, pleasure to meet you." Harry just shook the hand in silence, feeling a small headache building up behind his eye's.

"Charmed, I'm Tracy Davis." Was the brunettes response, though her eye's soon glided back to Harry's

"Wayne Hopkin's." was the last, a quite forgettable fellow who eventually ended up in Hufflepuff and was forgotten about.

Looking forward, Harry couldn't wait to get in the school, so he could eat and go to sleep in a warm bed for the first time in years. Some of the most basic needs, which the boy was more than happy with. Hell, he would even be Happy to socialize once he got a decent nights sleep! Though if that girl would stop poking him he would be doing a _whole_ lot better.

"WHAT!" he finally snapped, half turning around and making the boat shake side to side a little. Rubbing the bridge of his nose he repeated more softly, "What do you want, I have a headache?"

The girl actually looked a little sheepish at this, "Oh, I was just wondering when you'd introduce yourself?"

"Names Harry James, pleasures all mine, I assure you." He spoke after a second, turning to face her completely, "So, any idea what house you'll be in?" he asked, making small talk.

"Oh, Slytherin no doubt, my whole family's been in Ravenclaw, though I'm not exactly a bookish girl. What about you?"

"Haven't the foggiest." He replied simply, honestly not knowing where he'd end up.

She just looked at him strangely, "Well you… _were_ raised in the magical would, right?"

"Yes and no." was his infuriating reply, he could see her start to get a pretty blush from anger, "I was raised by a wizard, though we traveled almost nonstop for the past five years. I _did_ read up and keep up on the magical world, though nothing larger than knowing who the various Ministers, presidents, emperors, and general rulers were."

"Ok… well you traveled, did you study a lot?"

"Didn't have time to study, though I was constantly learning things wherever I went."

"Did you do a lot of daring and stupid, er courageous things?"

"Plenty of stupid things, though that's part of life ain't it? Though never when I knew better and there was another way to get or do something."

Her blush began to deepen. If he gave one more answer that was both yes and no, she would flip, "Were you a hard worker?"

"Yes." She relaxed a little, glad she had finally gotten a straight answer, "Not that I had much choice. Rab was very insistent when we'd work on something."

Tracy palmed her forehead, starting to feel a slight headache… right between the eye's too.

"Sounds like Slytherin to me!" said Terry, with a smile, "Not only has he been generally evasive on the questions he's also managed to give you a headache apparently." He and Wayne both laughed at that, though Harry himself give a slight blush now, not meaning to have annoyed her so thoroughly.

Soon they were hopping out of the boat's, walking up to a large set of double doors which Hagrid, the Half giant's name he had learned from Boot, pounded on with his gigantic fist. The door swung open to reveal an elderly woman in a pair of green robes and a tall pointed hat, "Professor McGonagall, the First Years."

"Thank you Hagrid I'll take them from here." She replied, leading the students into Hogwarts for the first time. Once in the main hall she turned and looked at them imperiously. Harry could tell she was not one he would like to cross. "Please wait here," she started curtly, "The sorting ceremony will start shortly. There are four houses in Hogwarts, if you did not already know, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. After you are sorted into one of these houses you will go and sit with your table and be lead to your common room by one of the Prefects. I will be back shortly."

And true to her words she came back to the crowd of nervous children, leading them into the great hall, making all of them, even Harry, gasp in amazement. For, right above the four tables and nearly three hundred students sat the star lit sky, nestled into the arches of the halls high roof.

Off to one side Harry heard Hermoine comment about the ceiling from Hogwarts: a History.

McGonagall paid them no mind though, other than to flash a small smile, and stalked into the middle of the room, placing an old three legged stool down, followed by a ratty and torn black hat… And it sung!

_Oh you may not think me pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the __Hogwarts__ Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.__Gryffindor__,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set __Gryffindor__s apart;  
You might belong in __Hufflepuff__,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient __Hufflepuff__s are true  
And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old __Ravenclaw__,  
if you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in __Slytherin__  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folks use any means  
To achieve their ends._

You might belong in

So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap

After the song was done and the clapping from the students had died down McGonagall spoke once more. "When I call your name take a seat and you'll be sorted, then you can go and sit with your house. Abbot, Hannah."

Before Harry's name was even called Hermoine Granger, Neville Longbottom (Who had ran off and had to bring the hat back to the Professor), Seamus Finnigan, Lavender Brown, Pavati Patil, and Fay Dunbar were all sorted in to Gryffindor, large smiles on their faces.

Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Wayne Hopkins(Who Harry Had forgotten was standing next to him), Megan Jones, and Ernie Macmillan were all sent to Hufflepuff.

Terry Boot, Mandy Brocklehurst, Michael Corner, Anthony Goldstein, and Padma Patil (Pavati Patil's twin sister) all made it into the much more subdued Ravenclaw.

And lastly Millicent Bulstrode, Flora and Hestia Carrow(Another set of twin's), Vince Crabb, Tracy Davis (Who had a small smirk on her face as she walked away), Greg Goyle, Daphne Greengrass, Draco Malfoy (Who took less than a second to be sorted), Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson all made it into glorious Slytherin.

It did not escape the young Potter that Slytherin was so much larger than the other three houses- at least for _this_ group.

"Potter, Harry!" the elderly Gryffindor called, looking up at the boy who, despite the sudden attention he was receiving from the school, walked out to the chair with his head held high and his shoulders held out proudly.

As the hat descended upon his brow he could hear the whispered muttering of his year mates, a single stray thought escaping, _'This better not be what it's _always_ going to be like!'_ Strong, proud, and social he could be, but attention like this was _not _something he looked forward too.

"_Nor would I expect you to, Mr. Potter!"_ came a voice from within his head, _"Hmmm, excellent Occlumency shields by the way, not that they can stop me, though that headache you have is partially from losing concentration on your shields. Decent for your age, though far from being an Adept in the mind arts."_

"You can test my shield's?" he asked aloud, though quietly.

"_Indeed Mr. Potter, a little gift from Salazar. Though that is not why we are here… Where shall we put you, hmmm? Quite the interesting chat with Ms. Davis you had on the way in… it takes _much_ more effort to hide in the truth than in lies… Though you don't always know when your doing it… Brave, though not without reason; smart, though not dedicated enough to the pursuit of knowledge; Hard working and loyal, though not without a reason to do so… Ambitious, you are not, fair you are not, noble you are not."_

"Well what _am_ I!" he snapped, tired of getting insulted by a hat… _'Maybe the hat would be a good trophy for Rab?'_ he thought idly.

"'_Fraid not, Mr. Potter, I'm bound to the school, unlike some _other_ founders artifacts."_ Harry blushed at being found out, glad that the hat was hiding his face, _"As for what you are: You are clever, you are cunning, a little headstrong, though not ruled by emotions. And talented… Oh my, yes very talented… Well, my job is to send you where you will best grow and develop… It better by: _SLYTHERIN!_"_

Removing the hat from his head Harry frowned at the sudden silence, though he wasn't exactly surprised. Shaking his head he walked over to Slytherin table who began to reluctantly clap for him.

Shortly after he sat down, between Tracy and Draco Malfoy, Zacharias Smith was in Hufflepuff, Lisa Turpin was in Ravenclaw, Dean Thomas and Ron Weasley (Who shot Harry a nasty glare) were in Gryffindor, and Blaise Zabini went to Slytherin.

At the head table an elderly man, who could only be Headmaster Dumbledore stood, "Well, before we all eat, I would like to say a few words; nitwit blubber oddment tweak!" and with that sat down, signaling for the rest to eat.

Turning to Tracy Harry can't help but ask, "He's a little Barmy, ain't he?" Getting a giggle in response.

It was Draco who commented first, watching as Harry piled food onto his plate, "So the-Boy-Who-Lived, in Slytherin… How _ashamed_ your parents must be!" he drawled, eye's glinting, wishing I'd be goaded.

"Meh." he supposed, shrugging my shoulders, "Yea if they're not, oh well if they do. They haven't been in my life for ten years… kinda doesn't matter what they think at this point." He honestly didn't care, five years _living_ life had managed to teach him a lot of things and gave him plenty of time to think. "Besides, my guardian will be ecstatic." He added as an afterthought. Even if Dumbledore himself found out who his guardian was it wouldn't matter, they had parted ways almost a week ago in the middle of nowhere Australia after getting his wand.

The twit wasn't done though, "Yes, well it's good that the mudblood would approve of you being in a _proper_ house."

It was a good thing that Tracy that came to his defense then, hissing under her breath about the boy's father, because he had nothing to say to that… he had no connection to his mother and father anymore beyond the fact that they had given him life… _'Should I care?'_

"Fine Davis, you've made your point and we agree, Malfoy's an idiot." Said another boy with dark Italian skin, making Malfoy give a indignant squawk, who extended his hand over to Harry, "The name's Blaise Zabini."

Harry took the hand reluctantly, "Harry Potter." He responded with a fake smile. There was something about the boy he didn't like. He was overly charming for an eleven year old, his voice carrying a strange allure to it.

"You must admit though, it _is _rather strange that the Defeater of the Dark Lord would end up in the _'Evil'_ Hogwarts house."

A few of the others chuckled at this, even a couple of second years near them, "Well, I guess I must be evil!" he announced to the rest of the first years, spreading his arms out as if he were a preacher at mass, "Come to me my children, come to the Dark Side… We have cookies!" this got a few more snorts of amusement as people went about their meal.

"Seriously though, I refuse to believe a bunch of twelve and eleven year olds are 'evil.' A few older students may be a little _darker_ than the rest, but most likely not evil… Not that it would matter to me."

"You wouldn't care if the older students were on their way to becoming the next Dark Lord?" asked a thin blond girl, the shortest in their year, Daphne Greengrass if he remembered.

He gave her a small smile, "Nope! I'm here until I graduate and them I'm leaving the islands for good most likely. There's much, _much_ more out there than Britain. When you've seen part of it you want to see it all."

This seemed to get them… excited, "So you've traveled a lot then?" asked one of the twin's, whether it was Hestia or Flora he couldn't tell, leaning over her dish to hear better.

Five years he had traveled and in those years he had heard a lot of stories. You come to appreciate the spoken story when you've heard them told everywhere from the bonfires of magical Native American tribes to the warm fireplaces of a massive manor house. It was the oldest art, around since before the written word and even cave drawing.

"Yes, I've traveled, from Tuscany to Moscow and from Madagascar to the Bering Sea. I've seen the sun rise from the summit of Fujiyama and set into the great coral reef's. I've watched the sky light up with lightning without a single cloud in the sky and slept under it while it glowed with the Aurora borealis." Their eye's were all fixed on him now, even Malfoy's, and a few had their jaws hanging loose. "Tell me, did you know that Nundu will travel in packs when there is enough prey for them to hunt? Watching them run across the hard dry ground with the full moon right above them is a beautiful thing. The world is _full _of such wonders. I don't know why anyone would want to stay in one place their whole lives."

Turning to Tracy he held up a bowl, "Potato's?"

Once everything was said and done they had all eaten, Dumbledore had given his start of year speech, warning the students off from the third floor corridor, and they were being led down into the dungeons by a fifth year prefect, Marcus Flint. Harry had met half-giants, half-goblin's, half-veela, and half-elves… He had never known a _human_ to mate with a troll, for he was sure that was what he was seeing when he met Flint.

The dungeons were… different, than the rest of the castle, Harry could tell immediately. For one he was sure, after they entered the Slytherin common room, that they were under the lake, and while the rest of the school had walls covered in moving paintings and suits of armor the lower regions were void of such things, bearing grey stone walls to any who wandered down there. Then there was the _feeling_ he got; either there had been a potion accident gone horribly wrong or dark magic had been practiced there for years… generations even.

He knew better though… he knew which it was.

The Slytherin Common room was hidden behind a perfectly normal looking length of wall. The only indicator of it being the proper hall was a statue of a monkey-like man standing proudly, practically looking down his nose at anyone in front of him, at the far end of the corridor.

The Dungeon itself had a low ceiling, and was clearly submerged under the Black Lake. The large sitting area was littered with low backed couches and a pair of chairs in front of each of the three fireplaces. They were the only source of light that _wasn't _green, giving the room a cold yet grand appearance to it. Next to each of the three fireplaces were two staircases, clearly leading to the dorms.

Right now, though, none of them were paying attention to that.

No, they were all staring at the tall imposing figure of Severus Snape standing in the middle of common room with three women on one side and, now that Flint had left the first years, three boys on the other.

Any conversation that may have been occurring stopped dead, not even trailing off. The man's black eyes looking at each of them in turn, taking in their young forms. Idly Harry focused on his Occlumency shields, feeling the brush of passive Legilimency. He was far from being an expert in the art but it was enough to stop the passive probe being sent out.

Silence reigned, save for the cackling of the fire's. It was after nearly a minute that the man spoke, never raising his voice, instead forcing those around him to listen all the more carefully.

"I would first like to congratulate each of you for making it into the esteemed ranks of Slytherin. We few who are privileged enough to gain entrance into this most Ancient house tend to rise to the greatest heights of society. That _said!"_ he fixed Malfoy, who was grinning like a fiend, with a pointed glare, "Never forget that the higher you soar, the farther you can fall. Remember that well, because a single mistake is all it will take in order get yourself killed. Hogwarts will give you a chance to stretch your wings and with luck help you from making such dim-witted mistakes."

"Before you stands the six prefects, handpicked by myself in order to best guide you and keep you from getting your fool necks snapped before you even graduate. You will go to _them_ if there is ever a problem, and if they cannot help or think there a matter best left to my hands _they_ will come to me. I am a busy man and do not have time to solve petty disputes."

" Before I leave there is only one more matter to which I must attend. Slytherin House is unlike the others, we carry our own rules and our own code that _will. Be. Followed!_ Firstly you will always be in appropriate dress unless you are within the confines of your own dorm room. No shorts or tee shirts, or jean's. At the very least you will wear black slacks and a buttoned shirt. Some of you may be Half-bloods or even muggleborn, but you are now in the center of Pureblood society, where it all begins. Play your cards right and you will not be held back by our society but become _part _of it."

"Secondly, though I do not expect you to like each other, or even get along, once you leave this common room you are a house undivided. If you are _caught_ fighting or perpetrating an act against _any_one in this house, you will find yourself at _my_ tender mercies… Other's may joke about Mr. Filches wanted punishments… _I _will make you _wish_ for them…"

"Thirdly… Slytherin House has a certain… reputation, as you no doubt know. Justified, unjustified, or anything in between is moot. The other three houses will almost always unite against us… It is for that reason that I shall hold each and every one of you to a higher standard of work than the others. Your Potion's work will be the best in the school… not because I cheat and tutor my snakes, but because anything less than an Exceeds Expectations in potions will be marked down as a Troll in my grade book… For the other classes I cannot do such, but should I find you are slacking in _ANY_ of your classes you shall have your rights and freedom's removed in order for you to practice."

"Do not disappoint me my snakes… you would not wish to earn my ire for the next seven years of your lives… We've lost students over less…" and with one final look at the young students he turned and walked up one of the sets of stairs, four of the six prefects going with him.

"Alright you lot," said Flint, glaring at all the younger students, "the stairs the Professor went up are off limits to you lot, they're there for the Professor, Prefects, and the Quidditch team, not that you will need to worry about any of that for a few years at least."

His female counterpart, a tall red headed girl, continued from there, "The male dorms are off on the right, females on the left. Ladies can get into the male dorms, though you gents are out of luck if you want to try the same. Trust us, the wards will stop you…" here she shot Flint a look with a raised eyebrow, "won't they Flint?"

Blushing an angry red, though saying nothing to the contrary, the half-troll yelled for them to go to their dorms, followed by, "Prefects will be in to have a little 'chat; in an hour." Making them go all the faster.

The dorms were both simple and grand at the same time. The green and silver played in such a way that one could not help but _feel_ the grandeur in the room, though the designs and layout were plain… well, save for the beds themselves. The beds were made of a beautiful Blackwood that was carved into snake designs that had been shined until they practically glowed. The curtains on the beds were thick and a beautiful dark green that reminded Harry of the forest's he had traveled so much in the past years. And the mattresses… when he touched them Harry swore there was magic in each individual thread.

Finding his "trunk" was quite easy. It was the only thick leather duffle bag at the foot of a bed.

"What _is_ that monstrosity, Potter?" Drawled his blond, aristocratic housemate, who eyed the magically enchanted bag with a look askance.

"That," the young Potter started, pulling his robes over his head, "is a wizarding travel bag."

The bag in question, which was actually black dragon hide, had half a dozen 'pouches' on it, each with the space of the main compartment of the bag ten times over, had the main bag not been enchanted. He and Rab had picked it up while sneaking across the Mexican border into the States.

"_Why_ would someone carry something like that _willingly?_" he asked once more.

"Because Malfoy," Blaise answered as Harry rummaged around for his night close and a change of shorts, "It's inconspicuous for wizards who travel and holds more than any of our trunks, no doubt."

"Please Zabini, don't tell me you believed the pounce's story about traveling? Anyone can read traveler's journals. Besides, look at him, no way someone can travel as much as he claims and be that small!"

Hearing this Harry smiled before pulling his shirt over his head, showing the blond and Italian, who were the only two standing around talking, a thin frame surrounded in tight muscles, free of nearly any baby fat. They were both impressed, though Malfoy turned to do something else, refusing to acknowledge the boy's better figure out loud.

As he walked past them to get to the showers Blaise snapped his finders and pointed at Harry's back, making his blond counterpart look again, getting an eyeful of his roommates scared back before the thick wooden door closed behind him.

"You know, maybe you shouldn't call be calling him a pounce anymore?" said the darker of the two, a small grin on his face as he looked at Draco with his eye's still wide a little.

"Yeah… Probably a good idea… Will definitely consider it." Was all an equally wide eyed blond had to say, still staring at the door.

'_Either way'_ Blaise thought to himself wryly, _'It's going to be a more interesting seven years than mother predicted.'_ He would be right and he would come to hate that with every inch of his body.


	4. Blackened Soul

AN: **FOR THE SAKE OF THE STORY, THE TIME LINE FOR THE SUMMER BEFORE HARRY'S THIRD YEAR HAS BEEN CHANGED. AS OF NOW SIRIUS BLACK ESCAPES AZCABAN AT THE END OF JUNE (RATHER THAN JULY), AND THE WEEKLONG VISIT OF AUNT MARGE RUNS FROM JULY FIRST TO JULY SEVENTH (RATHER THAN IN AUGUST) AND LASTLY THE WEASLY'S LEFT FOR EGYPT WITHIN A WEEK OF HOWGWARTS LETTING OUT FOR THE YEAR. ALL OTHER DATES AND TIMES ARE STILL ACCURATE AND REFLECTED IN THE TIMELINE!** Thank you.

Disclaimer: I do not own Rowling's Harry Potter universe, Jim Butchers Vampire Courts, White Wolfs Vampire clan's, or Stephenie Meyer's Twilight, or any similarities there in of any of these.

_**Please see Author's note at bottom of page after reading if you like!**_

**Blackened Soul**__

To this very day Harry has no memory of why he had left his home, the memory of what had occurred that fateful night was a black haze of sounds, lights, and feelings… first and foremost was the feeling of pain that surged through him. Oh, he had been told the details by others… but it wasn't the same as remembering.

He remembered walking out of his aunt and uncles home of four Privet Drive in Surry, angry over something, his wand clutched in his left hand, his right hand dragging his school trunk behind him. Pounding with each step he marched, making several blocks before he stopped to think and rest, intent on getting away.

He remembered his so called plan, using his father's invisibility cloak, casting magic on his trunk and flying to the Burrow… But then things went all… strange.

He heard a growl from between two houses, turned and raised his wand to defend himself. All he saw then were the two black eyes, reflecting the light of the lamps. He didn't even have a second to look at the thing before it charged him, pouncing on him and throwing him to the ground faster than he thought possible.

Vaguely he remembered a single thought, the last though outside of pain he would have for the next three days; _Vampire!_

While he could think of nothing else he did remember afterwards a few things: a loud banging and a bright light, a young man yelling… another man jumping down beside him, raising his head to look at him and his wound… swearing… lots of swearing, especially from the young man who helped pull him onto the… bus, he knew there was more to it but the memory wasn't there.

After that he remembered looking out, seeing flashes of light, even a full five seconds when he lifted his head and stared at the inside of the bus absently, his pain being too great and his body practically moving on its own: no doubt looking for the snitch. To say it had been a strange memory was an understatement at best. A nearly empty double Decker bus that had beds on wheels instead of seats, while parliament and half of the London night scene passed through the windows to either side and his head resting on the lap of somebody he was sure he didn't know.

After years and years of agony he remembered being jostled, a woman screaming, "Another one!" and then after what felt like seconds someone saying his name, this time sounding oddly familiar, "Potter?"

Lights moved by, he could feel the magic moving him, though he thought nothing of it at the time. The last thing he remembered was his head hitting something soft, its touch like a torch being shoved into the back of his head, and more pain, pain that would make strong men cry, make hardened women shatter like they were porcelain, and have children who know not the cruelty of the world begging for death.

And just like it came, it ended, the pain was gone, though the memory of it still left the boy shaking and clutching his head.

Slowly he pushed the memory away from his thoughts, opening his eyes for the first time. Sitting up he looked around, picking out small details about the room, as Spartan as it was, absently noting that while the room was dark nothing seemed to be hidden by shadows, as if there was a glow from nowhere and everywhere all at once.

"Magic…" he muttered, rationalizing what he saw looking at a table, a bed, plain black stone walls, and a door with what looked like a sliding eye whole in it, reminding him of stories of American Speak-Easys.

He tried to remember why he was here, coming up blank, more importantly coming up blank on where _here_ was. Like a waterfall though he did remember one detail of the night before… was it yesterday? Longer? _'Vampire!'_

That he clearly remembered, rubbing his neck to feel for a bite of some sort that a vampire would leave, feeling none on either side of his neck, though wincing with the memory the bite had caused.

Turning swiftly he looked towards the door, only realizing after he moved that he had heard footsteps. Watching the door he stopped moving, not even noting that his chest stopped rising and falling, or that he could not feel or hear his blood flowing as one often can while stressed or staying still.

In truth he didn't feel stressed, not in the slightest.

Quickly and silently the rectangular eye hole opened up, giving Harry the sight of a man's eyes, blue and merry, seeming to sparkle with an inner light, unlike his headmaster's whose twinkled mysteriously… there was a very big difference between sparkle and twinkle, he would learn…

"Ah! Your awake, good, good, good!" said the man, his smile practically visible through his eyes. Opening the door silently he walking in, completely at ease and relaxed, Harry's eye's having a hard time following him, seeming as if the man really wasn't there.

He did see the man though, taking in his dark blue robes and dull blond gray hair, a completely gray goatee at the end of his thin face. Harry couldn't help but feel relaxed by his presence, releasing the breath he had been holding.

Standing up straight the man preened, as if he were an owl, introducing himself, "Hello there, my name is Nicolas, you are in my home on the shores of Whales. I brought you here three nights ago, Mister Potter," Harry was hardly surprised that the man knew his name, after three days of having him laying here he would be insulted if they didn't know, "you were attacked. Tell me young man, what can you remember from that night?"

Blinking at the man a few times he opened his mouth, speaking without hesitation, "Vampire. That's the only thing I can remember. You said I was attacked?" Nicolas nodded once, his oddly jovial face seeming grim at the same time, "Then you cured me, right, I mean, if there bite's what makes a person a vampire? I don't know all that much about vampires." Looking up he was expecting another nod… he was disappointed in that regard.

"No." the man said bluntly, "Unfortunately there is no cure for the vampire venom that you were afflicted with. Would you like me to explain vampires to you before I go into detail about what happened to you?" he asked, getting an affirmative from the raven haired teen.

Pulling free his wand the man conjured a chair beckoning for the boy to sit at the end of the bed by him. For a minute the man stared at Harry, wondering where to start, "Well, for starts you need to know that vampire's are not a single race, as some would have you believe, they are three different races, each equal, powerful, and terrible, to some extent. The difference between them is minor, yet still very important: Magic and their inner demon's."

"For simplicities sake I shall break them into the three C's: Clan's, Courts, and Coven's. Vampires of the Clan's are the first and most well known to Wizards. Their blood is full of magic that is unique to them and very powerful. As such though they are burdened by not having the ability to use human magic at all. Nor do they have the strongest physical abilities of the three, though they are a still much stronger than humans, they must use their magic and blood to give them such abilities. Also they possess a craving for blood that they must either fill or die. That is the first part of their beast. Furthermore is that their monster sits close to the surface and is repelled by fire, sun, and magic. I knew immediately that you could not be of the Clans though; their changing is much more… Ritualistic."

Looking up he peered at Harry, noting that the boy was still, taking all the information in, strangely calm. He only continued when the boy nodded to him, "The Courts are easily the most common and weakest of the three. They are, on the outside, human, with two of the four courts being able to go out into the sun like normal humans. In addition they are able to use human magic as well, having their beasts hidden deep within themselves. That is not to say, though, that they do not feel the pull of their inner demon's. In fact the two courts that are able to mix with humans during the day have a harder time than nearly all other vampires… nearly. Once again I know that it was not the courts that bit you: The monsters that make up the Red Court are _very_ noticeable when they feed and you would not, simply put, be in once piece if it were the Black Court."

Once again the boy just seemed to stare ahead, looking at Nicolas strangely, before he actually spoke, His voice broken as if he wished he could cry, though no tears would come to him, "So then I am…. _Of_ the Coven's then?"

The older man nodded, giving a pitying look at the boy, "Yes… the least common and most dangerous of all three species of vampire. You will be stronger, faster, more aware, quicker to analyze, and have sharper senses. As of right now you are at the top of the food chain, the strongest type of creature on the planet, one on one, save perhaps a dragon, werewolves, or the elders of the other vampires. What more is that unlike the other two, one having its own brand of magic and the other having access to normal wizardry, Coven Vampires have… well, I guess you can call it a jumpstart. The abilities and traits you had when you were human will be present and stronger than they were before. Unfortunately this comes at a cost. You will crave blood like no other, the longer you go without it the stronger you become, the more you will lose control. Superhuman strength and speed means you can do a lot of damage."

With a resigned sigh he said the last thing about the Coven vampires for the moment, "Last is the fact that coven vampires must kill their prey, should they not and the victim is human it shall become like them, one of the damned."

By this point Harry's body was wracked by unanswered sobs, trying to cry, though his body would not, shedding no tears. In fact he felt disgusted, he had cried before and his body wasn't reacting to what he was feeling at all: his mouth was perfectly moist, not to wet not dry at all, his eyes were dry, he felt no tingling, no aggravation at all, and the fact that he didn't feel sick after hearing all of that was the worst. His body suddenly felt foreign, not reacting at all like expecting it too, not doing what he wanted it to do.

Right then and there he admitted something to himself that he wished wasn't true but knew was: he was no longer human.

---

Four days straight Harry laid in that bed, learning more about his body while weeping as best he could over what he had become.

The first thing he learned was that he no longer slept, something that he was actually quite grateful for. He could only guess the terrors that would have waited for him in the land of dreams. Another was that he no longer got hungry, only a terrible thirst that horrified him. It horrified him because he knew what it was he thirsted for: Blood.

He didn't know how he would do it, kill humans for their blood, and become a monster worst than Voldemort ever could. Twice each of those days Nicolas stopped by, giving the boy a bottle with a dark red liquid in it. At the end of the fourth day Harry finally decided to end his hibernation, asking the man where he had gotten the blood from.

As normal Nicolas entered as he always did, sliding the peek hole to look in first and then opening the door, the same large glass bottle of blood in his hands as he had earlier. The difference was that now Harry sat on the edge of his bed, eyes closed as he waited for the man.

"Good evening Harry!" he said in his normally happy voice, offering the bottle to the boy, "How are you doing? Are you ready to come out yet? I have some people here who you may be interested in meeting and there is much I need to teach and introduce you to."

Unlike the other time he had come into the room the boy answered him with a positive, "Yes… I think I'll have to come out any way." Taking the bottle he put it to his lips and started drinking deeply. It wasn't the greatest tasting thing in the universe, yet it was oddly satisfying, "What exactly is this stuff anyway?" he asked pulling a half emptied bottle from his lips, "I can't really think that you go out and kill people on a nightly basis just to feed me."

Nicolas actually chuckled at this, motioning the boy to keep drinking, "Harry, my boy, you are going off the assumption that A) I am human, B)I am not a dark wizard, and C) that I don't have a stock of humans locked in the basement ready for experiments at a moment's notice."

To his credit Harry didn't drop his dinner when he heard this last point, though he did end up spitting the blood back into the bottle from shock, "What?!" he asked incredulously, "Why would I ever suspect _that!?_" though by the time he was done saying this Nick was already laughing.

"Good, good, the transformation hasn't affected your emotions too badly it seems. And no, I am human, I consider myself more of a _grey_ wizard, and I don't have any people stored away for experiments… well except for the others." He mumbled this last part but was easily overheard by Harry.

The boy just stared at the man for a few seconds before handing back an empty bottle, "What _others?_ Who exactly are you anyways? And unless you have a vat of human blood laying around what exactly have I been drinking?" staring at the man he looked him up and down once for good measure, making sure he hadn't missed any details about the man, "And if I'm a vampire why haven't I tried attacking you yet? You spoke the other day about my "monster" that I would have to deal with, but I don't feel anything of the sort right now. I just feel… normal, which is strange enough for me, I'm not entirely sure I was normal to begin with, making becoming a monster a little easier… that and the fact that I was a wizard."

The man just kept smiling, "Come walk with me through the manor and I shall answer all of your questions. For starters my name is Nicolas Flamel." The boys head would have snapped up fast enough to cause whip lash if he hadn't already been looking at the man. As it was his eyes widened amazingly, "Ah, yes, you did a little research on me during your first year at Hogwarts, Albus told me all about that when he called to tell me of the stones destruction." There was a smug smile on the man's face when he mentioned that.

"To _tell_ you of the stones destruction? But he had said you two agreed that the destruction of the Philosophers Stone was for the best!"

"Ah, is that what he told you? Well you see it _might_ have been true save one or two little facts. First being that he hates for others to have power he does not: he was unable to brew an Elixir of Life with the Stone, since he could not then he most likely believed that _I _should not. A foolish thing in the end, since I can easily make another stone in a matter of hours, but it would follow with who Dumbledore is. Though the fact that he said one of the students had destroyed it…"

For the first time that Harry could remember he was beyond angry. That his headmaster would be so petty, be willing to kill an old friend like Mr. Flamel, be willing to try and use the same stone that he was keeping away from the dark lord, to blame a student for-

"Excuse me, but did you just say he tried to blame a student for the stone's destruction?" he prayed that his theory was wrong.

The old Alchemist smiled, "You catch on fast Harry, very good!" he said as if he were talking to a student, "Yes, he told me that _you_ were the one to destroy the stone. It was an accident of course, but not to blame Mr. Potter for his actions." Seeing the darkening of Harry's face he chuckled, "Oh, don't fret it, its not like he actually made me think less of you. Besides, he never had the stone to begin with." Quickly he carried on, answering Harry before the question could even make it to his face, "I gave the poor boy a fake stone, made him think that I actually trusted him with something that held the key to immortality. But alas, I fear we have started to stray off topic here, to your next question."

"Lets see, well I _do_ have vats of blood laying around, dragon's blood to be a bit more precise. Its quite easy to come across actually, all you need is a dragon and plenty of blood replenishing potion to mix into its food. As for why you have not attacked me it is a combination of two things, one is the fact that I have taken measures to protect myself from vampires such as yourself, something I will be teaching you about, and two is the fact that I do not smell like a human, I smell like a vampire; comes with sleeping in the same bed as and living with a vampire for six hundred years."

"Living with a vampire? What exactly do you mean, is this some sort of vampire safe haven?" he asked having more and more questions as the man rambled on.

"Well no, not at first. You see my wife Penny, she is the reason I created the Philosopher's Stone. When she was twenty she was bitten by a vampire, just as you yourself have… We were in love, a love that seemed impossible at the time. It took me twenty years, but eventually I created the Stone, freezing my body as it is that you see now. Six hundred years later though something strange has started to happen though." For one the happiness that was in his face had left.

"What's been happening sir?" he asked innocently enough, remembering that the man didn't say no straight out, that this _was_ a safe haven for vampires, even if that's not what it had been.

"The answer to that ties in directly with the last of your initial questions. You see this all started in Egypt, a little less than three weeks ago." Harry remembered that Ron and his family had been in Egypt, likely they had _just_ arrived at that time though, "A young British boy was attacked by a Clan vampire while he was touring a tomb with his family."

Harry was filled with dread as he connected dots in his head, "A Weasly?" he asked pathetically, getting a nod from the older man. He just hoped it wasn't Ron.

"Yes. Luck had it that I was in the area when they found his body, else the family would have dragged him into the sun to get him help. I was able to restrain him and took him with me when I left, assuring the family that he would be safe and taken care of… But that wasn't the end of things. Next was when I got a floo call from one of my great, great grandchildren who learned I was in the Isle's once more. I was told that one of his daughter's had killed someone, having drained the life force from them."

"Drained the life force?" he asked confused, both of them stopping to have the conversation.

"Indeed, while most vampires need blood, like you yourself, two of the Courts do not, the White Court uses emotions as a medium to draw out another person's essence, while the well hidden Jade Court draws on a person's magic, directly, sometimes not even needing to feed on a person if there is enough magic in the air. The man's wife had lied to him about her past and had passed on the vampiric powers of the White Court to his daughter. What is worse though that the man himself was descendent from a different branch of the White Court himself. The poor girl never stood a chance, with two different cursed lines from one of the Courts."

"So then the Courts are human enough to have children then?" he asked surprised, clearly knowing even less about vampires than he thought.

The man gave him a nod before going on, "Yes. I, naturally, took the girl in to prevent her from harming herself or others. But then everything started going wrong. Vampire attacks started occurring, more and more: a ministry official here, a pureblood heir there… the next came last week. I had started sending out people to help ward areas with alarms and protections, to stop attacks from occurring and to clean up when they did… Harry, You need to understand that the three species of vampires HATE one another on a political and biological level, they will no sooner agree to work with one another than end their own lives in some cases. The next attack that occurred left two young girls changed: One of the Black Court, a nearly extinct Court, and another by a Clan vampire. That they were both changed means that the clans and the Courts have been working together, something that could prove to be a _terrible_ thing."

Fixing Harry with a look he said gravely, "Worse seems to be that they are only killing adults while changing the children. I no longer believe that my granddaughter just lucked out genetically."

Harry was quick on the uptake, thinking faster than he even realized, "You think someone did something? Somehow woke up her inner beast, brought her vampire heritage to the front?"

The blond man nodded before carrying on, "Yes, and it took the latest two victims to start seeing real conspiracies. The first was you, the heir to a prominent pure-blood family and the boy-who-lived at that and having been attacked and turned by the third and final group of vampires. Ironic actually, because I think they might have been trying to simply feed when they attacked you, not turn." At the boys confused look he explained, "Because, my boy, you were standing on an empty street and looked like a runaway rather than a wizard. Not exactly the typical pure blood that they have been attacking.

"No, it is the guest that came in while you were still turning, another girl just a year older than you, who started to change my mind about things. The girl, a Ms. Chang, was found outside the Diggory residence. When the alarms that I had set there went off I was able to respond quickly, finding the girl who was quite feral from some sort of potion and her recent vampirism coming to the surface. She brought to the table a third Vampire Court: the Jade Court. I know you may not understand it right now Harry, but the fact that a member of the Jade Court has become involved is quite frightening."

"Why is that? Aren't they more human than the other two Courts, and the Clan's?" he asked, starting to pick up some of the basics.

"Yes, they are, but they are vampires none the less. At that they are a Court that has oft refused to participate with the other Courts, sticking to the Orient where magic clings to the air and they are more well fed. From what I've been able to learn Ms. Chang is four generations away from her nearest relative in the Courts. She _shouldn't be a vampire!_ Someone has used magic to bring the curse to the surface. What more is that they set it so that she would be right outside of another Pureblood home, where she could have killed someone else."

They were both silent as Nicolas led him deeper into the compound, Harry thinking over everything that had been said. It was all a lot to take in all at once.

Soon they had walked into a lab, potions brewing in the middle of the room while the walls of the place were covered in ingredients and gadgets of all kind. Well, all save one wall that had a _very_ large vat of an oddly familiar red substance in it.

Harry walked forward and looked at it smiling, suddenly the reason why Flamel had discovered the uses for dragon's blood were much more obvious: they had to have _some_ reason for all the blood in the place other than Penny got thirsty.

His attention strayed from that soon though, as the old man started tinkering with a rather large piece of black leather. Soon he was looking into a mirror, the sight before him holding his gaze in shock and awe.

He was… gorgeous! He had never thought of himself as vain, but he knew of his own flaws, that he was too skinny, that his hair was untamable, that he was too short for his age… but this. He had lost all the baby fat he might have had in his face, his features seemingly… perfected, it was hard to describe, the things that had looked bad before now looked like they belonged on the face of a sixteen year old Greek god of body cologne. His hair no longer seemed like a rats nest but roguishly untamable.

Lifting up his right arm he pulled back his baggy sweaters sleeve, noting that the shirt was no longer as baggy as it had been before. The arm was far from muscular, but it was defiantly wiry, and pale. Indeed his skin as a whole seemed paler, while his hair was all the darker. Turning away from the mirror he looked down at himself, much to Nicks amusement, noting that he was even taller than he had been, not much, but noticeable. He did spare one last look at the mirror, noting his eyes that shown with a bright gold as intense as the sun.

Harry looked to the older man for answers, getting a lecture in return while the man worked on the leather strap still. It was one of the fringe benefits for being turned by the Coven's, you became drop dead gorgeous and irresistible to the opposite sex. His very smell could be used as a weapon, attracting people to him. He was also warned though, that while others may be drawn to him they would be putting both themselves and him at risk. The smell of humans would draw his demon out, making it hungry… at this stage in his unlife the smell of human blood would drive him into an insane bloodfrenzy.

"Well then, here we are!" he said, pulling up the thin, long strap of leather, "Give me your arm boy, I need to wrap this around it and do a quick incantation that should help with that whole… eating people thing."

Giving the man his left arm he watched as he wrapped the black leather around it, talking in Latin as he did so, causing the leather to sink _into_ the arm. When he was finally done the man explained what he had done.

"When Penny had first been changed it was… difficult for me to be around her, more than once she tried to attack me, but I was and am a powerful wizard. After a year I managed to develop the predecessor to this, which bound away my smell, preventing her from smelling me. It was effective enough for the moment, though that was before the start of industrialization. A few hundred years ago I developed this, a much more powerful version of her first restrictor. While _she_ did not need it, I still developed many such methods to prevent attacks. This binds away your sense of smell, not that you'll need it, bringing it down to just over the human level."

It wasn't long after that that the older man turned in for the night. Immortal as he was he was human still.

That night… Day? Harry sat and started pondering over what Flamel had told him. A bunch of vampire attacks, from multiple Clan's and Court's, the fact that they were attacking purebloods. That he was now one of them. That thought brought on a whole new slew of questions:

Why were his eye's golden? Would he ever age again or would be stuck at thirteen forever? Maybe that wouldn't be too bad, though it didn't help that he had only just hit puberty when it happened. He looked older now, how would he explain that to his friends?... What about school!? Could he even use magic still? And what Flamel said about getting a 'jumpstart' to his natural abilities and traits?

He stopped and thought about that last one for a second. What _were _his natural abilities and traits?

Well… he was a natural on a broom, and same with his seeker skills… sooo, he might be faster or better reflexes? But he had already been told that. So maybe he would be even _more_ observant than other vampires, have even _faster_ reflexes.

Technically speaking he was also born with magic, a natural talent…… So he would have stronger magic than he did before? The old alchemist didn't say anything about that. In fact he never really put into perspective how large of a boost he would get physically… maybe he could do magic without a wand?

Then there was something else he had to think about: he was a Parselmouth. What would _that_ develop into? Would he become more snake like? Maybe it would let him talk to more than just snakes? Well talking to a dragon might be fun.

For the first time in days Harry was surprised when the door to his room opened, revealing a beautiful young woman in his doorway. Her brown hair curled down around her face in an amazing manner, drawing his eyes, while the face seemed to almost radiate innocence and purity, not unlike that of a unicorn, as well as desire and lust, exactly like that of a veela.

Try as he might the boy couldn't pull his eyes away. And just like that it stopped, the pull he felt towards her, the emotions were still there, though they were no longer due to the woman's magic.

To his utter surprise he was already half way to her, not having noticed that he had gotten off the bed at all.

The girl just giggled, raising one eyebrow and bringing her hand up to her face in an innocent way, "Well, you _are _quite handsome, but Nick may not like the attention you are giving me." Putting out her delicate hand she introduced herself, "I am Perenelle Flamel, Nick's wife."

"Harry Potter." He said quickly, "I'm sorry about that I don't, I mean I-"

"Its alright!" she said gently, placing a hand forward for him to stop, "I understand perfectly. You are what we call a newborn, a vampire who has just been turned. Your instincts are still powerful and raw."

He didn't whether to be insulted or not, so he simple ignored it, "What can I help you with?"

Once more she grinned, "Nothing, I'm actually here to see if I can help you!"

He looked at her strangely, "Well, Mr. Flamel said you were a vampire but… how can you help me?"

She looked at him confused, "Mr. Potter, didn't Nick tell you, I am a Coven Vampire like yourself. I'm here to teach you and introduce you into _our_ world. I'm here to show you what you are now. Follow me!" and with that she turned away and ran.

As soon as she took off Harry quickly followed after, amazed by what he saw an felt. The world flew by as the duo ran, his feet barely touched the ground and he was launched off with enough force to outrun the Hogwarts Express. Soon she burst through a door and the hall was filled with a blinding light… well it would have been blinding for any HUMAN that had seen it.

The light of the sun was beautiful, the world was suddenly filled with so many colors and images. So distracted was he that Harry barely noticed that Flamel had stopped until he was right on top of her, stopping from a full sprint to nothing with a foot to spare.

Now they were in the middle of an open field and Harry breathed in deep, drawing in scents of grass and dirt and tree's. He could hear everything all around him for miles and was even able to discern what each was after only a second apiece. The wind gently blew around him, embracing him in a way he had only ever felt when he was flying during quidditch. He could _taste_ the very air, knew everything about it, where it had been, what flew in it, how moist it was.

Then there was the sight. He hadn't noticed until now, but he hadn't worn or needed his glasses at all, his eyes saw perfectly. From a hundred feet away he could make out every individual leaf on a tree, see the grooves of the bark on the tree's. Looking up he saw a bird, watching as it lifted and dropped its wings, able to see each feather as it flickered in the wind.

Bringing his eyes back down to earth level he turned to Penny to ask her about all of it and was blown away by what he saw. Her skin reflected the sun like a diamond with a million little facets. He actually reached out a hand to touch her when he saw his own skin was the same, as if millions of diamonds were right beneath his skin.

"This is part of our curse Harry. While we are stronger, faster, and more gifted than any other vampire on the face of the planet we are bound strongly to blood, needing it and craving it. That at least we can overcome with time and control. However in exchange we must also hide ourselves, for the sun will reveal us for what we truly are, expose us to the world."

Holding one hand up to the sky he turned it around, watching as the parts away from the sun stopped shining while the others glowed all the brighter.

"So I can never be normal?" he asked, saddened. The thought that he would still be able to use magic and go to Hogwarts even though he was no longer human had lifted his spirits higher than he could have hoped… but if he couldn't even show his face.

"No," she said bluntly, making his face drop, "you will never be normal. Personally I always hated the word; there is no such thing as normal Harry. Now if you want to know if you can go back to school and live amongst humans again, well, that's a totally different thing." The look on the boys face was hilarious and she couldn't help laugh again, "What, you think Nick and I haven't come up with a way for me to go out in public? He is too public of a person for me not to appear."

Then she pulled out a ring, handing it to him. The object itself was bulky an had a square top held a black gem stone that Harry couldn't identify. He did note two other things about it though. The first being that the stone didn't reflect light, even though he could feel the slick surface, and it had a single rune that sat seemingly right beneath the surface of it, visible to his superior eyesight yet unfelt by his hands.

"What kind of stone is this?" he asked, looking up at her smiling face.

"A Midnight Ruby." she told him, "Deep in the heart of South America there was an ancient shrine that held ten such wonders. They absorb light, rather than reflect it. Nicolas spent a week turning all the copper and iron objects they had found in other ruin's to gold to get half of them. The fools were looking for gold in small villages and abandoned temples. When he got them he started experimenting and eventual was able to add a rune beneath the surface, strengthening its natural magic, projecting an aura into the air. Slide it on!" she urged him.

Placing the ring on his right middle finger he watched as the sparkle left his skin, making him look normal once more.

"So, why you suppose they had these? Or rather how?" he asked, marveling at the magic the little rock had, "The natives that is."

Smiling still she put a single finger to her chin, "Hmm, well I would assume that they used them in either ancient rituals or for the same purpose we use them for. After all, Coven Vampires have a… _flair_ for appearing as gods and angels. I'm more than sure one of ours was Aphrodite. That stone is for you to keep, so DO NOT take it off or lose it."

Staring at the black stone still he ventured on, "What about the others Mr. Flamel told me about? What about Percy Weasly?" By the time he finished asking he was staring at her with a frown on his perfect face.

"Well, Nicolas is brewing something up for them." She answered simply, "These stones wouldn't protect them from the sun, just make it so that they don't reflect it like we would otherwise. Nic has dealt with others before though and just needed to consult his notes before getting anything started."

"You mean he doesn't remember?"

This caused the brown haired beauty to laugh, 'Harry, he's six-hundred years old, he can't possibly remember _everything_ he's ever experimented on or been told. Neither can I for that matter, I just remember more." He flushed with embarrassment… well WOULD have flushed with embarrassment, at her comment, "Is ok Harry. Now what's next, ask away!"

He paused for a moment, wondering whether he should ask about his magic and other 'skills' that could be boosted first or about how much stronger he was now.

"Why don't I answer the second question first." She responded, even though he asked no question, earning herself a strange face, "Don't worry, I'll answer that too." Once again she beckoned him with a single finger before running off into the wooded area across the field, barely leaving an impression in the grass as she moved. He felt led footed and awkward in turn.

When they stopped they were near a wide creek that flowed strong. Tree's dotted up and down the far bank but were more scarce on their side.

"Ok Harry, how strong are you? Well… you and I could both EASILY jump this creek." And she did so, watching him from the far end, speaking once more, making him note that he could hear her perfectly clear still, "Likewise I could root one of these tree's and launch it at you with the force of a cannon call."

Once again she demonstrated, pulling free a particularly gnarled and knotted tree, throwing it across the water at him. It didn't hit him though, as he chose instead to push it up and over himself and into the woods behind him. He was not quick enough, however, to stop Penny from knocking him in the side with a single strong back swing, sending him airborne.

It was a strange feeling once again. He knew that he should have felt pain but… it's not _exactly_ what he felt, or at least not what it used to feel like. It was more like tension than pain and faded quite quickly. His landing was even easier though, as he hit a tree wrapping his legs around it and staring back down at Penny's laughing form.

An evil smirk crept onto his face as he grabbed a tree branch to steady himself before unwrapping his legs and quickly pushing off the tree towards her before gravity could come into play. Slamming into the older vampire he quickly pushed his feet back to the earth before pushing her with all his might, watching with awe as she practically became a bullet, launch nearly five times as far as her hit had sent him.

"Wow…" was the only word that came to mind.

He needn't wait long for her return though, as ten seconds later she was standing in front of him once more, grinning like a fiend.

'Very good Harry, very good. A little _too_ straightforward of an attack for a real fight, but still good. Now though I want you to stop and think about something." Getting a nod she continued, "What would have happened to you or me if either of us were human's on the receiving side of those blows?"

If he could have paled he would have. The thoughts of Ron or Hermoine being launched that far or being smacked by Penny like that coming into his mind unbidden.

"Well Harry? I want you to say it out loud!" she chastised, no smile present on her face.

"They would be dead." He said quietly, knowing she would hear him regardless. 'Either one of those would have killed them, not to mention having a tree thrown at them. You would have torn them in half and I would have snapped their backs on impact. If that didn't kill them then the landing would have…"

The woman just nodded her head before walking past him, sitting on a large stone near the waters edge.

"Come have a seat Harry, we do have much else to talk about." And sit he did. For several minutes they sat and said nothing. She just sat there looking at him, while he looked back wonderingly.

"Legilimency." She said at all, Harry immediately recognizing the Latin in the word. Coming from this woman meaning it was probably a spell of some sort, though he could feel nothing coming from it, just a word at the moment, not a piece of magic. "Very good Harry. Legilimency is a spell, one of the most powerful ones in the world. You recognized that it was Latin, can you figure out what it is by the base words?"

Looking away from her for a second he closed his eyes, "Legilimency… Well _mens _is Latin for mind, while Legili… the base word is _Legens_?" getting a nod to the affirmative he finished, "So it's a … mind reading spell?!" he looked up at her startled, "So you have been reading my mind then?" the emerald eyed boy asked more than a little shocked and insulted.

"Yes, Harry, I have. Its one of my gifts." She could see comprehension dawn in his eyes, "Yes. You and I are VERY much alike. You see we were both magical beings who were turned by the Coven's. Where the Clan's get their own brand of magic, and the Courts can use mortal magic, the Covens get their own natural abilities and skills boosted, to potentially supernatural heights. As I see you have already figured out, that includes our magic."

He stared at her for a second longer before jumping to his feet, pacing back and forth in front of her, "Ok… ok, so will I be able to use magic like I have before?" was his first question.

"Most likely not, though it is possible." Flamel responded, earning herself a frown, "You have to understand, the ability to use magic is a _very_ powerful ability as it is. If you were a squib then more likely than not you would be able to use magic like you used too. For someone who is a wizard though… You will find magic to come to you more naturally than almost anything else, even other skills you may find you posses. I myself never needed a wand after my turning, I might not even be able to use one anymore for how long it has been."

"So then how will I pass as a student in Hogwarts? I can't exactly tell the teachers I'm a BLOODY! Vampire. And simply saying that I don't need a wand anymore will raise questions I won't be able to answer." He was feeling stressed, not that his body responded to this at all, it was a tension of sorts in his breast.

"Calm down Harry, I didn't _need_ a wand. Immediately after my change I was still _able_ to use a wand though. I think you will find it quite easy to pass as a student still, even if you can't use a wand." Getting a questioning look she sighed. Walking over to one of the tree's she grabbed the tiniest branch she saw, brandishing it like a normal wand.

"Tell me, if I gave this piece of woods to Albus Dumbledore what kind of spells do you think he would be able to cast with it?"

"Nothing, it has no core in it and it's probably not the right kind of wood." He responded, not knowing where this was leading.

Turning to the rock she had just been sitting on she gave the twig a swish and a flick, _wingardium leviosa!_ And like that the rather large rock was airborne, following her 'wands' motions. "So since this piece of wood is NOT a wand, how did my spell look?" she asked innocently.

"Brilliant!" He said wide eyed, "So I don't even need to use the wand if worse comes to worse, just hold it and make it look that way."

"Very good Harry. Now why don't we move on." Letting the small bolder drop once more she sat down again, motioning for him to follow suit, "Why don't you tell me what you think your natural abilities are?"

And so he did, talking about how he was a seeker and how Oliver Wood, his team Captain, had commented more than once on how he was a natural. He told her how he suspected that it would give him better reflexes, to which she agreed it most likely. Then there was his ability to speak with snakes. She raised a delicate eyebrow to that, asking for a demonstration via a conjured snake.

When he asked what she thought it could develop into she looked at him before shrugging her shoulder and snorting, "You have as much an idea as I do. Stick out your tongue… does it stretch? Is it split at the tip? Can you taste the air around you?"

It was a negative to the first two, while he found he _could _taste the air, making him look like an idiot while he did so, judging by her laughter.

"_Master she is scaring me, may I bite her?"_ asked his scaly little friend that had stuck around and was now staring at Perenelle wearily.

"_No,"_ he responded absently, putting an arm out for it to climb, _"Her skin will break your teeth."_ "Are you done now? Your scaring the venomous snake." Her laughter doubled.

After she had calmed down a bit she explained some more to him. "Ok, well, to go a little farther in depth on _what_ your talents might be you need to understand more about magic in general… Tell me Harry, what are the different branches of magic? Tell me their names and what they are."

Stopping he thought for a few seconds before responding, "Transfiguration, which is conjuring and transforming physical objects. Charms, giving different attributes to people, places, and things that would normally not have them… um, mind magic?" getting a nod he tried to elaborate, "I guess that would be almost anything to do with the mind. Legilimency, obliviation, er…" he stopped here, not knowing much else.

"Very good Harry, remember, your just entering your third year, your not expected to understand all the arts. Why don't I give a more in depth look at them for you, hmm? Charms you had down nearly down and pat. Transfiguration, you mostly had that right, though what you didn't know is that it is the art of transforming of things with internal magic, meaning your own magic. Whereas Alchemy is the transforming of things via external magic. The latter takes longer but is _much_ more powerful. Further though is the fact that Alchemy can give the objects created or transformed different attributes that they wouldn't normally have. Now for the sake of this conversation I want you to keep in mind that Alchemy is the combination of charms and transfiguration, powered by magic that is not your own. It is _not_ a true branch of magic then in for what I am going to be speaking of." Seeing him nod in understanding she carried on.

"As for Mind Magic's you only had two skills within the whole of an art. Mind magic, which is used by a mind mage, is the art of reading, protecting, controlling, altering, and erasing the mind. Lucky you that won't be much of a problem. At least not from most humans." Seeing the questioning look on his face she carried on, a small caring smile on her face, "When you were changed it altered nearly every part of your body and soul. You can no longer be affected by human mind magic's, since they understand the _human_ mind, not the vampire mind. Someone like me, who was once a human and _is_ a vampire, will have no problem with either, though a werewolf for example will be able to kick me out with little effort."

"Now you missed several other branches of magic. Tell me, what branch does the spell diffindo fall under?" she waited a few seconds though he didn't answer, just scrunching his brow in confusion, "You see? It doesn't fall under any of the _magical_ branches as they are, though usually it, and spells like it, are taught as charms… They are NOT charms though, they are called Offensive magic's; cutting, bludgeoning, and spells that do damage to objects or people in general. Their counter being Defensive magic's; shields, wards, and counter curses, jinks, hexes."

"So then Defense against the Dark Art's?" he asked quickly, his brow still furrowed, getting her to giggle lightly.

"No Harry, magic is magic. The Dark Arts are called so because they are banned by the Ministry of Magic. Did you know in America Obliviation is considered a Dark Art's spell on a level with the Unforgivables? But at the same time, since their people wish to have more privacy the Polyjuice potion, which is considered Dark here, is perfectly legal. All over the world it is like that."

"That said there is two last branches of magic you missed, each a complete opposite of one another, Divination- the art of viewing the past, present, or future through magical means is the first. The second is Black magic, the only _true_ Dark Art's, the practice of which has been outlawed by _every_ wizarding government for the past three thousand years: Necromancy." She leveled him with a cold hard look, that scared him, coming from such an innocent looking body, nearly fae like. "I warn you now; your new condition puts you in an ideal place to start practicing necromancy. It is the one thing that _ALL _ vampires have in common. Should either I or Nicholas _ever_ catch you practicing such magic's then it will be your first, second, and LAST chance out the window. You will be on your last leg with us, provided you are still in our good graces before we find out. Do you understand?"

He could feel her looking at him, as if she were trying to judge his soul. It was the first time he had felt truly nervous in his new body, making him want to run away from this woman in the body of a slip of a girl. All he could do though was nod to the affirmative, not wishing to learn what would happen otherwise.

And like that the tension was gone, his nerves letting up on him as if it were nothing. The smile she gave him then was that of a predator. As much fun and as educational as the day had been so far he had completely forgotten one thing: She was six hundred year old vampire who had skills and powers of her own, honed over the grinding stone of time. The thought chilled his ice cold spine.

"Now," she started back again, her smile tempering back into a more pleasant one, "I tell you all of _that_ because every person who uses magic has one single area of magic here they are the most adept. For me it is mind magic, meaning that while all the magic's I know and can perform are more powerful than that of a normal human's, that branch of magic is pushed even FARTHER! I can read the minds of people all around me, protect my mind from nearly any sort of invasion. Plant compulsions in a person that will make them fear, do, respect, certain things. I could even invade and take over a person completely, enthralling them to me."

"Were I ever to turn Nicolas I have no doubt that he would be the same way in transfiguration and/or charms. I've never come across a fellow vampire that had more than one specialty in that regards, but it is Nic we're speaking of."

"With time you will learn that you have a branch of magic like this that you specialize in. It may be hard to spot at first, since you have no idea how your magic is truly going to be affected, but you will learn."

To say Harry was amazed was an understatement, _'If someone had told me a week ago that I would be sitting in a forest learning about theory of magic from one of the oldest and most powerful women alive (_sort of)_ and actually be understanding it I would have laughed at them.'_

"Not exactly the traditional Hogwarts curriculum is it?" the curly haired goddess across from him asked, playing with her hair while leaning back and staring up into the canopy happily.

"Not quite." He agreed, a laugh on his tongue, "I'm more surprised that I actually get it all to be honest… My grades weren't exactly the best from what I remember… Actually I remember little really. Spells seem to be there as far as I can tell… the fight in the Chamber of Secrets and the heading into the Third floor corridor during first year are the clearest, like nothing else. I can remember almost everything about Hogwarts too if I'm honest. But the summer and the eleven years before coming into the magical world… its like they disappeared completely." He did remember that it was not a very _nice_ eleven years though, so perhaps it was a blessing he couldn't remember.

By this point Penny was almost all the way on her back, giving Harry a profile of her womanly charms, making his face… well, not blush really, but color a little, become more peachy really. The color darkened a little more as she sighed a needless sigh, "Ah yes, your memory… Remember when I told you that I could read a human's mind because I once _was_ human."

"Yes, and that humans wouldn't be able to read your easily because they don't understand the vampire mind."

"Very good. Well this is almost the same. Your memories were for a Human Mind, you now have a Vampire's Mind, one that is ill suited to view a humans memories."

"But I still remember Hogwarts!" he countered, pointing out the flaw in that thinking.

"Ah!" she said, sitting up quickly, pointing at his face with a single outstretched finger, "Memories where you were surrounded by magic. Indeed the two memories that you remember clearest were the two where you were close to incredibly powerful sources of magic. In the first there was the Mirror of Erised, Voldemort's disembodied soul, Quirrel, who had to have been magically powerful in order to carry another man's spirit without being fully consumed, and lastly the fake Philosophers Stone that Nic had given to Albus. The second took place in a thousand year old portion of the school that had stored an equally old magical being, as well as a piece of Voldemort's soul that had began to perform an incredibly powerful ritual to restore him to flesh and blood."

"Magic ties the two different kinds of minds together in these cases, making it so that your vamperic mind could view the human memories. If there had been no magic then there would have been no common denominator to let your mind remember these either."

"That's amazing!" the dark haired Potter responded quietly, "What else can my 'new' mind do or will not be able to do?" he asked, looking up expectantly at her.

"Well, for one, it is much more primal in some sense of the word. Your emotions will be all the stronger and sway you much easier, so you MUST be careful. Other than that there's little it won't so. You will process information much faster now, part of the reason on _why_ you seem to understand all of this where you wouldn't before. As such you will remember thing easier. Its not that you remember more, just that your conscious and unconscious minds will connect the dots faster, processing things _so _much better. In truth I believe that where a normal human uses ten percent of their mind we vampires use closer to fifty percent, though sacrificing other parts. Tell me, are you ambidextrous? Well more likely than not you are now, though I did meet a vampire in South America that when from being right handed to left handed. You will find splitting your concentration to be almost effortless. Nic and I tested this at one point in my unlife by having me read a book while writing on two separate papers simultaneously, both as equally challenging as different . While I held a conversation with him and keeping beat to a man's singing in the back ground."

"I made fourteen spelling errors when I was writing both and talking, lost beat when they through in the book, and when I tried to keep beat I started reading the same line over and over again. That was hundreds of years ago though. By now I feel that I could easily do all of that and more."

Standing up she put a hand out for Harry, easily pulling him to his feet, "Come on kid, why don't we head back and get something to eat. I could drink a Hippogriff dry right now." Ignoring the question of _what_ a Hippogriff was, they ran back towards the complex, a beautiful stone manor now that Harry actually looked.

The boy was beside himself with so many emotions, joy, fear, revulsion, excitement, curiosity, awe. If his heart had been beating still then he doubted that he would be able to live much longer. Between the sights and smells and tastes and the new, previously forbidden, knowledge that he now had at his fingertips he felt like he was being torn in to a thousand pieces and loved every second of it.

When he and Perenelle had gone back into Nicolas' lab, he learned the actual truth behind the discovery of the twelve uses for dragon's blood.

They had originally had the blood because it was the most filling and easiest type of blood for them to get a hold of on a regular basis. The people at the reservation where they bought it didn't ask questions and those who _did_ were easy to either have moved or bribed. Eventually they had just bought the whole reservation.

That was all well and good and the few apprentices that Nic had over the years were usually kept away from Penny and that particular laboratory, while the remaining majority of their guests were either in the know or vampires. Then on along comes an impressive kid named Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, who Nicolas practically falls head over heels for and stupidly allows access to all of the facilities. It didn't take the man long to notice the large vat of dragon's blood, a seemingly useless substance. If the man had had longer than he did to think upon it he may have come on to the truth.

Strangely, Dumbledore came closer to death during those years than he ever had before. Luckily Nicolas was a quick thinker and came up with a perfectly logical excuse for why he had it in there.

"I've, er… been studying it! A substance from such a highly magical creature MUST have some sort of use! I wanted to surprise you actually, I would like you to help me discover the uses of dragon's blood."

It was actually quite funny when she told it to him, even more so when she informed him that the first use for dragon's blood that they 'discovered' but didn't publish was actually as a lubricant in a muggle auto mobile, where as an alternative source to feed a vampire took Dumbledore until number nine of the publishable uses.

The following week was one of the best Harry had ever had. He had learned more about himself and magic than he had in the past two years. Not sleeping really helped with it too. When he had asked the woman what she did when Nicolas wasn't awake he was pulled into a library and told ten words of wisdom; "As much as I can, as often as I can!*" She then promptly told him to stay with the basic texts found on two or three shelves out of the whole library… well that and the fiction section which took up three fourths of the massive collection. Harry was more than a little scared when he found the bible, the Quran, and Darwin's Origin of Species all next to each other until he pulled them out, finding that they just blank copies thrown in to amuse them when outsiders, much like himself, went perusing through their library. Though they did have copies of each of the text, and many others like them, in glass cases. To the Flamels they were practically the pinnacle of the written word. Be it science or religion.

It didn't matter though, he sponged up all he could, drinking, reading, talking with either Nicolas or Perenelle when he could, and getting to know the odd little snake that Penny had conjured on that first day he had out in the open. Actually the little blighter was one of the most amazing pieces of work he had over seen to be honest.

Most people, when they conjure snakes, use the spell Serpensortia, which is a generalized switching spell, swapping out a feral snake from the wilderness for air, rather than creating it. Apparently it's actually easier that way, using less magic and _far_ less concentration required. To create a serpent that would be able to act like a real snake, have the venom and proper biology in order to administer it would be much more concentration and magic intensive, and require an intimate knowledge of the snakes body. None of which was a problem for Perenelle Flamel, as living for quite a few centuries required quite a bit of intensive reading to stave off mind numbing boredom.

This snake was _created_ by the vampire though. "The body was simple," she told him later, "and the mind is my specialty. All that it's _really_ missing is a soul to hold the body and conscious together. As of right now I have _not_ created life, I have created a simulation of life with an external source of magic acting in loo of a core that allows a being, even as lowly as a snake, to _produce_ magic in order for it to stay alive." He was mesmerized none the less.

It was not until nearly the end of July that Harry first asked after the others in care of the Flamels.

He was quite sheepish about it too, as it was finding an old copy of the Daily Prophet from the end of June that reminded him that there was still a world outside of the library and the comfort of the Flamels estate. That of course reminded him that there was also more to the estates themselves than what he had seen, as he had not encountered a single other vampire that were supposedly living there with him.

"Oh my dear boy," gaffed Nicolas when Harry abashedly asked after them, "Of course you haven't seen them! We've been keeping you _away_ from them and vice versa. I do not mean to insult you Harry, but I do believe Penny explained to you that your mind is now more… primal, than it used to be, as well I informed you to the fact that the different types of vampires do not get along, yes?"

"Yes sir."

"Now, do you think it would be wise for six different vampires; one of the coven's, two of the clan's, and three of the court's, to possibly wander into each other and leave a mess of blood and guts all over the place?"

"No sir… Though I would still like to meet with them. What if you place similar restrainsts like you used on me on them as well? I mean for the most part it would be smell that triggers such a strong reaction, right?"

The ancient alchemist looked at Harry, intrigued, "Yes, for most animals and vampires even that is true, though… hmmm."

"Sir?" Harry asked tentatively, wishing to help as much as he could.

"The problem then," the man said aloud, clearly voicing his thoughts for Harry's sake, "Is that my granddaughter's inner demon will no doubt cry out to those of the others… possible the same for Ms. Chang as well. If that happens then it wouldn't matter what sort of sensory restraints were in place… Ah! So simple…. Tell me Mr. Potter, what do _you_ believe we should do to handle the problem of their demon's?" the man asked, peering at Harry evenly.

Harry stopped for a second, remembering the limited writings on vampires that he had been given access to. The Flamel's didn't want him to search for the answers to everything in books, rather through experience. "How would the demon's manifest themselves when they tried to reach for the others? If I don't know that then I cannot answer you."

The man smiled, knowing he was on the right track, "Mentally." Was all he said.

"Mentally… well either they need to have control over the beasts, which from what you've said is probably not possible in such a short period. I might suggest mind altering substances but that could possibly weaken their minds rather than the inner demons we are trying to stop… Unless you have a special band that will nullify them then I would say… Penny… She specializes in the mind and _clearly_ understands the mind of vampire as well as the demons we would have to face. She could clamp down on the demon's restraining it, even if it is temporarily. Since she is so skilled she could also be ready to do the same to any of us as well should we start to lose control."

The golden haired man smiled gently at the immortal boy, "Very good Harry, and very well thought out. Unfortunately, no, I do not have anything like the sensory dampers that you _all_ wear here, to counteract the inner demons of a vampire psyche. Perenelle can easily pull a full grown vampire out of frenzy though, especially from those so young, relatively speaking. I think it would be more than possible… though I think for my peace of mind we shall visit them individually."

"Thank you Mr. Flamel." Harry said to the man as he stood and began to walk out of the library where they had been talking.

"Please Harry, call me Nic, I have no problem being addressed as such by my students." The man chastised good naturedly.

At the announcement Harry was wide eyed, "I am honored that you think of me as such… I don't know what to say!"

"Nic is what I _want_ you to say! I believe me, you are a student of mine. You shall return here each summer until you graduate from Hogwarts, and after that I would love to take you on full time."

"Surely there are others who would…" he was cut off by Nicolas' hand on his shoulder.

"Harry, Harry, Harry… There is no lab assistant like one of the living undead. The are awake at almost all hours, have _wonderful_ memories and reaction times that can save lives, time, and experiments while you work. Not to mention how little I pay in turn for letting you sit in and help me do my research. Blood and a roof under which to stay! Now if there is nothing else, I shall retire until tonight!"

"Um, sir?" he asked, scratching the back of his head, "You wouldn't happen to have any other backed copies of the paper here, would you? I kind of forgot I lived in England for a while…"

The man just laughed as he led Harry to several stacks of papers from the past two months.

**AN! Spoilers for this fic abound! **

Ok, now that that's out of the way I would like to give a rundown on who the six vampire Anti hero's of the story would be.

Harry: Bitten by a Twilightverse version of the Vampire, back sparkle effect included. I may have gone a bit overboard with his abilities but honestly, think about it! He's magical, and in accordance with what stephenie meyer's vampires got when they were turned I stayed remarkable true. Magic and his parseltongue were true in Harry Potter canon, so in turn they would be boosted. And clearly he is a natural seeker, so that would be helped as well! Besides, you don't think I wouldn't poor on the guilt and bad guys? HA!. I mean an insane Tremere, a vain Ravnos, a rotting black court, a sexually frustrated Slytherin from the white court who feeds of fear _and_ sexual emotions, and a member of the jade court that's on on big magic high and lusting off him

Percy Weasly: Yeah I know what your thinking: PERCY!? WHY?" Well because, he's under used in good fanfiction. He seems to fit the part for the perfect Tremere/ Highly magical Clan Vampire. No one said he would be a good guy either… In fact I can easily see him being _very_ bad without anyone to stop him at first… wink wink, nudge nudge. Think powerful ritualistic magic's, ghouls, stuff like that.

Cho Chang: Ok, I admit, I am not a huge Cho fan, but she is more well known in Canon than that other Chinese girl, Su I think her name is. And this was too good of an opportunity to flesh out the Jade court from the Dresdenverse. In addition to that she provides one more stuggle for Harry, who's gunna kinda be caught as a middle man, trying to keep the lid shut on the can of worms the Flemel's are letting into Hogwarts. In her case its gunna be more of a "he's sexually attracted to her" while she's kinda gunna be on a magic 'high' and attracted to him mainly for his boosted magic she could suck off him.

Pavati Patil: Ok, I'll admit it, I have a thing for the twins, so deal! Now when I think of what kind of Vampire Pavati would be all I think of is either a vain Toreador or a Ravnos. I settled for ravnos, since A) in white wolfs original world of darkness they are from India. B) They are illusionist meaning she could fake her way through school as well s faking her life signs. And C)Either Pavati is vain enough to be a Ravnos or the Ravnos are vain enough for Pavati. I can SO see a vampire Pavati giving Harry a lot of messes to clean up after her with, seeing as she always struck me as a sexual being. As well as a little more sloppy than the others would be. I mean ravenclaws, Slytherin, Percy, and Harry I don't see as messing up the masquerade as much as Pavati would. "Opps! She just forgot her make up, she's not really dead!".., "Sorry about her biting you dean… im sure it'll heal over in a few days"… "Um… she's just trying out a new charm that makes it so she doesn't need to breath!" Yeah!

Padma Patil: Ok, I cant have one be bitten and not do the other one. She though I am having been bitten by the Black court. She's gunna be a little more serious of a problem than the last two though. If you have read the Dresden books then you know that the newborn vampires from this court seem like their rotting almost, able to love body parts and go on as if nothings wrong. Well a beautiful girl like Padma being bitten by this kind of creature would normally be boring, so I twisted a little and now I make it so A) Nicolas' solution to the sunlight thing doesn't work as well on her as it does on the other two. B) She starts to Rot from exposure to the sun rather than simple ignite. C) she stuggles to stay awake during the daytime, rather than staying nocturnal like her internal clock is telling her. D) An attraction to boy's coming to the surface with a violent face, D) lastly being the fact that she and her sister can barely stay in the same room without trying to tear each other's faces off.

Daphne Greengrass: Finally is our White Court bag of jollies. She ends up hitting the proverbial shallow end of the gene pool when it comes to dormant vampire backgrounds. Her mother was the daughter of an 'almost' full white court vampire (the Raiths/aka the ones that draw energy from sexual emotions) while the father was the grandson of a similar vampire (from the Malvora family/ aka the ones that feed off fear.) She, like Cho, has her vampire heritage forcefully awoken, but unlike cho, who's just wakes up, kills her little sister in order for hers to come to the full front _(Yes, I mean she raped her sister. Innocently cudddleing together as young siblings are ought to do when boom! Out of no where she has these urges and sucks the girl dry from both fear of what her 'big sister' was doing to her and the pleasure she was getting from it.)_ Imagine being a hormonal teenager in Slytherin house and suddenly being able to kill anyone she was close to, or feeding off the fear that she causes in others. A fine and deadly line if I do say so myself.

Please, read, review, and send me a message with any questions comments, requests or just to let me know if your gunna use an idea so I can put you on my alerts! Thanks.


	5. Turncoat and Archibalds Potters Rise

Right well, been a while since I put something up, probably due to lack of Reviews, but meh, I felt like posting.

Next up is a little think I was messing around with called "Turncoat!" Its from the first person and would have been a Dark/Death Eater Harry. I didn't get too far along, but I will post what I did write, and a little background I did for the story for anyone who would be interested.

Basiclly it's this: over the past sixteen years Harry has been lied to and manipulated, after the Death of Sirius he starts having nightmares that make think back to his previous years at Hogwarts and his encounters with both Dumbledore and Voldemort. Eventually, with the help of our good friend Felix, Harry meets a young girl who is _very_ close to the dark lord, and Harry learns that everything is not as it seems: not all the evil's he knew are true evils, and not all the goodness on the supposed light side is as pure as it seems. Of course, not to say that Voldemort's side is _good_ or anything! So taking up the relic's of one of his ancestors Harry returns to Hogwarts with an agenda of Duplicity.

* * *

I go back… and I find it's all a joke!

It is January 13, 1996 a Tuesday. I have just had my first Occlumency lesson. I feel as though I have been violated in a way more terrible than anything else I have ever endured. I will later learn, much later, that Snape did not due this to me willingly. The method of Occlumency training that Snape has used was ordered such by my esteemed Headmaster. Sirius would kill both of the men in a second if he heard about it… he might have succeeded too if he hadn't been imprisoned since his escape from jail… Ironic, huh?

It is July first, 1991 when I hear the name Voldemort for the first time. Hagrid, the gentle half giant is afraid to say the name aloud and knows not how to spell it… I find this rather foolish. After all, isn't the Dark Lord supposed to be dead?

It's December 22, 1995. I've just returned from school and am now hugging my wrongly convicted godfather after having spent the last four months away in Scotland. He whispers in my ear how proud of me he is for saving Arthur Weasley's life just the night before. He knows how hard it's been for me the past year with Professor Umbridge's totalitarian rule of Hogwarts, Voldemort's attempts to break into my mind with Legilimency, and Dumbledore ignoring me… Come to think of it Dumbledore's always ignored me when it mattered most… My mind drifts on that for a second. That night I dream on all the times I had been ignored by the man when he could have helped simply by paying attention and actually listening to me.

Once more it is my first year, 1992, June 4 to be exact. For the first time since I was a small child am I in the presence of the Dark Lord Voldemort… And despite the fact that I am the reason he is disembodied he does not try and kill me immediately. I receive the first of three offers to join the Dark Lord, this time he offers to resurrect my parents from the grave. But I don't _want_ my parents back like that. I am a child and yet I know it wouldn't be _true_ life. When I refuse he attacks, though not with intent to kill until my mother's protection's hurt him.

I go forward again and now it is June 24, 1995. I have just witnessed the rebirth of the dark lord Voldemort and the death of a young man whom I could have easily seen myself becoming friends with. As I lay on the soft moist grass a crowd cheers for me. Underneath me lies a human body, already starting to cool. To me it is as if the people are cheering the return of the Dark Lord that will kill so many of them. I can't help but hate them for the briefest moment. They are sheep… but then I remember: they are sheep that are going to die. My heart falls into true depression for the first time since I learned I would not be able to live with my godfather. Though it is forgotten in the rush that follows I lift my head enough to see 'Mad-Eye' Moody and Albus Dumbledore walk towards me. I later learn why Moody is grinning, but why is Dumbledore smiling behind his thick facial hair?

I stand, looking on in a silent awe on May 29, 1993, as the specter of a boy writes his name in the air with my wand: TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE, his name, is spelt out there. With a wave of my Holly wand the letters rearrange: I AM LORD VOLDEMORT. At that moment, between that revelation and the conversation starting back up I can't help but look at him… He doesn't look too much different than me, save for being five years older… I guess Tom isn't that uncommon of a name either… not too unlike Harry…

It is June 9, 1994. Dumbledore has just passed me and Hermione on our way back into the infirmary after saving my Godfather, Sirius Black, from being kissed by a Dementor. It is only years later, during the events that led to my decision, that I ask some very important questions. Why did Hermione, as smart and mature as she is, have a highly magical and dangerous object like a time tuner, just so she could take more classes? How is it that Dumbledore didn't know how Sirius was getting into the school, or where he would be staying? By all accounts _he_ was the one that ordered a tunnel to the Shrieking Shack constructed for the sole purpose of allowing Remus passage into and out of Hogwarts.

It's June 24, 1995 again, though prior to returning to Hogwarts with the portkey. I am tied to a grave somewhere in Northern England. Voldemort uses my blood, unwillingly taken, to resurrect himself. After this he offers me a position as one of his Death-Eaters: "Allow you to serve me willingly among my faithful!" are his exact words. When I refuse he grin's and proceeds to untie me and have Wormtail give me my wand. We duel and I feel the power of the Dark Lord. I only survive because of Old Magic once more: this time due to a connection between our wands. This is the second of three offers I will receive from the Dark Lord.

Now it is December of my second year and Professor Dumbledore has asked me to come to his office. I spoke Parseltongue for the second time that I can remember the day before and today I stumbled on the petrified body of a Hufflepuff boy named Justine Finch-Fletchley. Dumbledore asks me if there is anything I would like to tell him. It is two months later that I learn that the Headmaster is subtly accusing me for the attacks.

It is the middle of my History of Magic OWL, June 16 1996. I am currently receiving a vision from Voldemort of Sirius being tortured in the Department of Mysteries… It doesn't strike me _then_ but much later on, that Voldemort has never used our link, or however he is breaching my mind, to attack me for memories like Professor Snape does. No, Voldemort has only ever used it as a means of communication, whether intentional or not, truth or lies. This thought is nether comforting or worrying… just odd.

And it is now 1992, the end of my first year and I sit here in the infirmary. Dumbledore has just told me that I will have to return to the Dursly's once more, despite him claiming to know how much I hate it there. I am young and naive and will not learn that Dumbledore has had a woman watching me be abused for the last ten years of my life… He _does_ know how much I hate it at my _home_… he just doesn't care.

June 16 once more, 1996, and I watch two men fight. Dumbledore versus Voldemort. I am amazed and frightened by what I see. Though I find it how ironic that Dumbledore has used several curses that one might be considered Dark and is quite brutal, despite how peaceful he seems otherwise… The fact that a man like Dumbledore can be just as savage as the Dark Lord… it frightens me most of all.

It is some time in the early 1980's when a young toddler is forced into the cupboard under the stairs with a thin blanket and a bucket. This is his birthday present after spending the past three quarters of a year with his new family…

It is June 18, 1996 and my fifth year at Hogwarts once more, though right now I am in the bowels of the Ministry of Magic, watching as a man gets hit by a stunner. It wouldn't be so bad, except he is falling backwards into the Veil of Death… I watch, horrified and pulling against the restraining arms around me, as Sirius Orion Black, my godfather, falls backwards into Oblivion… When I finally break free from my restraints I do not follow Sirius as I so wish too. Instead I run after Belletrix Lestrange, the woman who killed Sirius.

That night I killed for the first time, though I don't realize it.

That night I cast an Unforgivable for the first time.

That night I manage to throw Voldemort's Legilimen's attack out of my mind at point blank range. He is considered to be the world's foremost expert on Legilimency from what I have heard. I know though, if he had been searching for memories and _not_ trying to possess me, I would never have been able to stop him in time.

That night I heard for the first time the words given by Professor Trelawney: "_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches.…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not.…and either must die at the hand of the other for neither shall live while the other survives.…the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…"_

That night I was told that the Power that the Dark Lord knows not was love… followed not long after by being told that had _had_ to go back to a loveless home, have no contact with my friends… I want to cry and do so as soon as I am away from the thrice damned fool.

All of this passes me by in a matter of seconds, since it is all in my head. As I lay here crying in a broom closet these thoughts enter my mind of my own free will. I want hate Dumbledore for what he's done to me, for what he _hasn't _done… and I find that I do.

It's all a joke. The man who should be my closest confidant seems to have joy in my pain and suffering and has brought upon quite a bit of it himself, knowingly admitting as much. The _thing_ that I should hate and revile I finds myself looking and comparing myself too at times… I am afraid that we are not that different, though I will remain in much denial about this for the next month or two.

Oh well… it's a Joke! Ha ha. Well… I feel better already, despite the tears that are streaming down my face.

---

It is now 0200 on July 2nd. I've been 'home' now for two weeks. Exactly one week ago today Emmeline Vance was killed and Amelia Bones was nearly killed, both from Death Eater activity. The ironic part: Bones only survived thanks to the presence of her niece, Susan, whom I trained. The news of such was the last post I received this summer.

My thoughts aren't on that though.

Neither are my thoughts on the fifty muggles who died in a Death Eater attack. They had destroyed a rather large bridge the same day Vance died and Susan saved her aunt…

No, right now my thoughts are on the small care package I received my last day at Hogwarts.

For what is probably the twentieth time since I received the plain brown box I open it and look at the contents. Inside are a pair of faded jeans, a red button down shirt, a plain white undershirt, a blue bandana, and a new pair of nice shoes. All top brand stuff too. On top of all of this is a single object, the only other object in the box: a metal flask.

Now, I wouldn't have a problem with this stuff usually… Its muggle goods and none of the dark witches and wizards I can think of would know _anything _about muggle goods, or manage to deliver them to me while in Hogwarts.

The problem is that it's from a wizard of whom I have never even heard of, let alone know. Besides that… they're muggle goods. Of all the witches and wizard's I know, light _or_ dark, they all either don't know me well enough, don't have the money, wouldn't get me these things, or don't know the muggle world well enough to get them. Truth is told I _should_ have given all these things to a teacher before I left school. Hermione would have told me to do so, heck, she'd have told them herself.

But, then again that's why I didn't tell Hermione about this.

It came with a very simple note, written on parchment. The note… it brought me so much pain from the references to Sirius, pain which I feel day and night. Yet, in the same letter it offers me a way to start healing the hole left in my heart from Sirius' passing.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_May I first offer you condolences on the loss of your Godfather, Sirius Black. I did know the man through our school days, though I can honestly say that the two of us never did see eye to eye. Despite this I am sorry for your loss. Sirius was one who could lift the hearts of all men and women just by walking into a room, even if you hated the man one could not stop from smiling at his antics._

_I too know the feeling you may be going through now. You feel lost, as if you don't know what's left living for, like you don't know what to do or who to turn to. It's a suffocating feeling that condenses in your breast and forms a block of ice in your gut. I also know that while the feeling won't go away for some time, that there is a way to help it along._

_Thus have I sent you this package. Enclosed are the necessities for a night out on the town. While this may not be your idea of fun, I give it to you as a true and tried method, one that I used myself when I lost my mother. You will find encased all the proper clothing and, more importantly, a flask containing in it Felix Felicis, better known as liquid luck. Take a single mouthful of the flask and don the clothing, with intent to heal, and then set out for the night. You will find that the potion will not lead you astray. I will warn you though, the potion will lower your inhibitions slightly, but few others are either appropriate, legal, or safe to use, and while the potion _may_ become addicting, I have only sent you enough potion for half a dozen mouthfuls, enough for twenty four hours of good luck._

_May you have an interesting time,_

_The Half-Blood Prince_

_P.S. Do NOT mix liquid luck with alcohol; it would be quite… unpleasant. _

I had to have read the note from the Prince three dozen times or more. He was wrong though, the Prince, I didn't feel lost.

I felt numb, like a piece of me, the best piece of me, fell through the veil with Sirius. It was the part of me that wanted to live, to learn… to fight the good fight.

Maybe it would help this potion. Who knew? It wasn't the kind of decision to rush in making. For all I know the potion could be liquid luck or basilisk venom.

Looking up at the clock I see that I have been staring off into nothing for the past four hours. One more sleepless night to add to the tally. Stashing the flask and the care package under a floor board beneath my bed I get to work for the day.

Despite the _warning _given to my relatives by the Order last month, my lifestyle has changed very little. In fact, the _only_ improvement has been that I am given bigger shares at meals. But the amount of work I do around and in the house…

Each day it was customary for me to get up at six, in order to make breakfast for Dudley, Vernon, and Petunia. Each had their own specifics. Dudley, for instance would eat two hashers of bacon each morning, and four eggs, over easy, and two potatoes of hash browns. Along with that he downs about a gallon of orange juice each morning.

Vernon on the other hand goes with a 'simple' English breakfast: Four Eggy in a Basket, a half a dozen slices of ham, and several more eggs scrambled. Add to that a few cups of tea with plenty of sugar and honey.

Petunia is both the easiest and hardest to make breakfast for: A single egg, cooked to perfection, half a grapefruit, sugared so to perfection, and two pieces of toast, not too burnt, not to moist, with a light spreading of marmalade. Served with just one cup of tea, steeped perfectly.

I myself get the other half of Petunia's grapefruit and a couple of slices of toast.

Sitting down with my 'family,' after I'm done cooking, Dudley already half way through his food orgy, my uncle clears his throat.

"Boy," he began imperiously, "I recently got another promotion at Gunnings. That being said, your aunt has expressed an interest in remodeling the house."

I look at the fat man incredulously; what could he _possibly_ be planning now?

"And?" I grate out impatiently as he sat there, waiting for me to congratulate him, my throat dry and hurting from a mixture of crying and lack of use otherwise.

Narrowing his eye's he carried on gruffly, "AND, that means we need to have no one in the house while it's being done. _You_ need to get a hold of those freaks of yours and have them take you away to wherever it is your kind go!"

The man actually jumped when I barked a laugh from my sore throat, "Get a hold of them?" I ask, "Get _a hold_ of them?! How exactly do you expect me to do that?" I asked, my mind turned once more towards my anger at Dumbledore before banishing the thoughts. Dwelling on that anger inevitable sent my thoughts towards the source of my anger and Sirius.

"Well, well… use that rutty bird of yours!" he yelled, poking a meaty finger at the ceiling.

"Hedwig," I began, "Has been taken from me for the summer by Dumbledore. Ms. Figg, who is a squib by the way, has been removed from Privet Drive for some reason, though I don't doubt that I have _minders_ watching over me. I don't know how to call Hermione, since I don't even know if she is at her home and not moved to one of Dumbledore's safe houses. I'm stuck here until _they_ decide to let me leave."

I tried to tune out the rant that followed, but it made me so angry!

"We never even wanted anything to do with your kind! Their nothing you freaks can offer good people that would change that!" Vernon raged on, finally hitting a nerve.

"You should be glad I _am_ here, you fat bastard!" I yelled back, standing up quickly, my anger noticeable by the flying of my plate towards a wall without it being touched, "Me staying here in this _HELLHOLE_ is probably the only thing keeping your family alive still!"

I could see as the walrus like man turned an ugly shade of puce, his teeth bared at me, "NOW YOU SEE HERE! I will not take threats from anymore of you freaks! I've had enough of you and your kind!"

"My _kind_ generally want nothing to do with your either! Though there are those that would rather see you _dead_ rather than ignorant of our world. I have fought against men and women who would kill you and your son, just because you have no magic! That is after they tortured you for hours on end and raping your horse of a wife and making you watch as she died! You want to know why they _haven't?!_ I'll tell you why! Because I AM HERE!"

"ENOUGH!" he bellowed, standing up now, letting his chair fall to the ground, pounding on the table and breaking his own plate with his beefy hand, "I WILL NOT STAND IT! THIS IS THE LAST SUMMER YOU WILL _EVER_ SET FOOT IN MY HOME! I will kill you and ANY of your _freakish_ kind that I ever meet again; put them down like the bastard dog's they are. I should have drowned you when you were still a pup."

Sneering at him I couldn't stop the words that flowed out of my mouth, "Please! You're like the _mud_ beneath our boots. You would be wiped away and thrown to the trash before you would even realize we were there!"

Petunia gasped, and Vernon's face when from puce a deep purple, "You think you know how the world works you little bastard? Please! Men can be killed easy enough. You've never seen war to know…"

I cut him off with another barking laugh, "I've never seen war?" I asked… well yelled, at him, "I've seen war! I've seen men die right before my eyes; I've _fought_ in war already, what about you _Vernon?_ What would a simple sales man know of war?"

I wanted to sit down and cry as vision's of Cedric and Sirius flowed before my eyes once more, but I didn't stop, "Whole parts of the magical community would _love _to get rid of you muggle's, cleaning up the mud that pollutes our world. I'm supposed to be a 'champion' for _your kind_ Dursly, but I've been stabbed, beaten, stuffed in a cupboard for ten years of my life. You put locks and bars on my room; you starved me and worked me to the bone… Frankly, I don't see anything _worth_ saving in this _Pathetic Little Shitehole that is the muggle world. _You _Freaks _do a good enough job of killing yourselves off, I don't think there's anything worth saving."

His next words at me were whispered, barely loud enough to be heard, "Leave. _Boy!_ I want you gone from this house by midnight tonight or I toss you out!"

"Gladly." Is all I responded with, thinking about what I'll need, how I could contact the Order…? _If_ I should contact the Order, where I could go, how I could go. Did I have minders on Privet Drive anymore?

Ms. Figg has left the drive altogether, my owl has been stolen from me, my old subscription to the Daily Prophet is either being redirected or is canceled. Hermione hasn't tried to contact me at all through muggle means, which I _know_ the Death Eaters and Ministry wouldn't be able to track.

Once I'm in my room I spring to work, pulling my trunk from my closet and immediately opening it, sorting through the objects inside it. My father's invisibility cloak, text books, parchment, inkwells and quills, school robes, and different nick-knack's are for the most part crammed inside it.

Instantly I realize my first problem: I won't be able to drag the trunk with me everywhere. Turning my head I look into the closet, which has various things of Dudley's thrown inside it, before I spot what I need. Pulling free one of my whale of cousin's old backpacks, which looked like it hadn't seen any use other than to be carried back and from school, as empty as his head, I start to sort through to see which essentials I will be able to take with me.

The cloak I set aside for now, I'm going to need it later, while the Marauders Map I prop up on the side for easy access. Immediately my cauldron and Potion's text get cast to the side, most likely I'm not even going to take the subject unless I managed an O on my Owls. Most of the books get left behind actually, while my most recent edition of _Standard Book of Spells_, _Intermediate Transfiguration_, and _Practical Defensive Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts _went straight in. I don't think I would have been able to leave the last one behind… Sirius gave it to me.

Swallowing, I fight back the tears… Now's not the time, I need to be strong and get moving soon. I don't want to put it behind me but I can't let Sirius ghost haunt me forever.

"Clear your mind… Clear your mind…" I start chanting, losing myself in its steady monotones rhythm.

Still chanting I begin to work once more, already feeling calmer… Damn, Snape was right about Occlumency and my emotions.

_The Dark Arts Outsmarted,_ _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, _and _My Favourite Spells_ get left behind, much to my dismay, but I rationalize it as me not doing too much practical Defense work outside of school. In a Spur of the moment decision I throw in my Divination book, _The Dream Oracle._ "If I'm going to have a Prophesy handing over my head, I better study the stuff at least a little." I mutter to myself, groaning at the thought of reading through one of Trelawney's texts already.

I only throw in two changes of outfits right now, deciding that I'd just have to make my way to Diagon Alley to get more rather than carrying it all around with me anyways. Following that thinking I only hold onto a single ink well and parchment scroll.

By now I was to the bottom of my trunk and started sorting through the random nick knacks and broken bits from over the years. The first thing I pull out makes me the angry.

It was a key… a silver key with small insect wings on it. With it come the memories of my first year and fighting to save the Philosophers Stone. I feel so angry because my Dreams of late have been less dream and more memory.

"Why did three first year students need save one of the world's most powerful magical artifacts?" I asked aloud, "Why Dumbledore would put the wizarding community in that kind of danger… Forget the community, why put the students in that position?" Muttering to myself loosely, in a mocking Dumbledore fashion, "The third-floor corridor is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death!" I throw the key into my newly salvaged backpack and reach in to the trunk once more.

This time I pull out a piece of a shattered mirror.

"Clear your mind… Clear your mind… _Clear your mind!"_ with my eyes closed I put the object on the floor, trying not to let my own sadness fill me.

Reaching inside again I pull free the Portable Sneak-O-Scope that Ron had bought me from Egypt. Deciding against it I throw the cheap Dark Detector into the rest of the pile beside me. Looking in I decide that I have enough to get by, as the rest of the junk in the trunk is broken or not so fond memories.

Hurrying once more I look at the time, it's nearly two thirty already. Pulling up the loose floor board under my bead I throw the few salvageable items into my backpack. At the _very_ least I will be able to keep the clothes'. Popping open the flask I look inside at the golden liquid before rereading the note that came with it:

"_The Potion will not lead you astray"… "Enough potion for half a dozen mouthfuls, enough for twenty four hours of good luck."… "May you have an interesting time…"_

"Half a dozen mouthfuls, eh? Well, I feel like I've _more_ than overdue for a good day Felix!"

Putting the flask to my mouth I take two large gulps of the liquid, only four more mouthfuls to go.

As I lower the silver bottle from my lips I can feel the magic of the potion start to work. The dark haze that had covered my life for the past weeks seemed to lift, the dark's got lighter and the lights got brighter. For the first time since before the school year ended I could feel a true, genuine smile grace my lips. I didn't feel anger or sadness… they weren't gone, they just seemed so… trivial, now.

Looking down I note the top of the back pack is opened. "You know… The Prince wanted me to wear those clothes when I went out… I would be rude not to!"

Three minutes later I'm sliding down the banister with my pack hoisted on my shoulder, avoiding Dudley as he stormed up the stairs with Piers Polkiss not far behind. Getting to the bottom I instantly make my way to the kitchen, grabbing a few quick bites from the meal that Aunt Petunia is preparing for that night.

Before I walk out I see Vernon's wallet on the table, bulging with money right out of the bank. The fat man always made it a habit of having a lot of money on him, ever since before I can remember. Probably compensating for something.

Not even pausing to consider it I snatched the imitation leather up and stuff it my back pocket, heading to the front door.

Subconsciously I know that taking the front door is most likely a bad idea, as that is where most of the Order members, if they _are_ watching me, are going to be camped out. At the very least I should throw the invisibility cloak over myself… But, I had a really good feeling about how things were going. Slamming the door behind me I hear some rustling in the bushes followed by a loud- **Clunk!**

"Evening Dung!" I said cheerfully, looking at the unconscious face of Mundanges Fetcher, before picking up the invisibility cloak that was draped over his shoulders, making him look like a head lying in the mud.

Shoving it into my backpack I keep walking calmly until I'm at the end of the drive way, off in the distance I can hear loud music playing, coming closer…

'_Guess that's my ride!'_ I think joyfully, hiking up the black backpack once more.

* * *

The second part here is the historic account of one of Harry's Ancestors: The Dark Lord Archibald Black Crafter.

* * *

**_The Dark Lord Archibald Black Crafter!_** (Born: 1739 - death: 1781)Full name was Archibald William Frederick Potter, named for the king of England whom he would serve under (Kind George III), his father being named for the kings father. Archibald was born to the wealthy Potter family, which was closely connected to the muggle Monarchy and grew up in close proximity to later king George Hanover the third.

Potter attended Hogwarts, under Headmistress Dilys Derwent, the world renown healer, and was sorted into Gryffindor, graduating class of 1746-47. He scored quite high for his age, though was not the highest scoring of his generation, instead splitting his time between his own personal works in Enchanting, wand-crafting, mastering the magic's of illusion's, and his several experimenting into the Dark Arts. Though he did not study the Arts intently until after graduating from Hogwarts, Archibald theorized that they could be used through use of Enchanting without detrimental effect to the user.

It would be years later before it was discovered that this was not true, as the said object would radiate a presence of darkness and infect any who used the objects just as well as if the person had cast the spell or spells themselves. It was, however, discovered that using Dark Magic as a base for enchanting objects ran similar to the actual use of the dark arts themselves. Whereas the Dark Arts can have many and varying effects which are partially powered by negative emotions, allowing for them to be cast easier than similar strength spells of non dark variety, an enchanted item could contain a much more powerful effect and often times more than one effect as well, something possible only to master enchanters and Alchemist the world round. Archibald's Dark Enchantments, better known as Black Crafting, are now known and feared throughout the world as the most powerful and terrible tools of the Dark Arts in recent history, for not only were they incredibly powerful, but to craft them one needs to use incredibly negative emotion's while enchanting, in addition to the radiation of evil from the object after it has been crafted.

Young and new in the world Archibald embraced the Dark Arts, appearing infrequently throughout British wizarding history for the next thirteen years, until October 1760. At this time Archibald's long time childhood friend is named King George Hanover the Third, while Archibald, partially through his own charisma, partially through use of Illusion's and compulsion's, is named the King's Wizard, effectively becoming the Monarchy's voice in the Ministry of Magic.

In the mid 1770's the British Colonies in America began to destabilize and the crown requested for Potter to make a motion in the Wizengamot for British Wizards to aid in the fighting against the Colonies in Rebellion, fearing that the magical communities in across the ocean would be fighting against the muggle British soldiers and aiding the rebels.

The motion was crushed in a landslide loss for Archibald, who had, till then, held an iron grip over much of the Ministry. The risk of exposure and an isolationist policy led to a uniting of many groups within the government against Archibald's motion and soon the man found himself beret of his position as the King's Wizard.

With the start of the Revolutionary War Archibald was approached by five individuals. The King himself and four Heads of prominent British Wizarding families: The Black's, Malfoy's, Greengrass', and Gaunt's. The five came to Potter requesting and offering aid in the suppression of the rebellion in the Colonies. In exchange for fighting in the name of the Crown the Houses of Potter, Black, Malfoy, Greengrass, and Gaunt, along with their allies that also pledged them themselves into service under Potter, would be named Noble House's and given exemption's to several trading and taxing laws in the British Empire. So, in defiance of the will of the British Ministry of Magic, did Potter begin a War of Terror on the magical communities of the Colonies, while aiding the British with magic. For going against the Ministry in such a way Potter was named the Dark Lord Archibald.

In the beginning the War of Terror was extremely effective, as very few colonial wizards had been aiding the Revolution until the appearance of Archibald the Black Crafter. The witches and wizards that he brought with him overseas were well versed in magic's and more oft than not they were proficient in the Dark Art's. For all of his fighters Archibald also crafted many Black Enchantments, many of which are still held as prized possessions of the darker families. But none were as well equipped as the Dark Lord.

Archibald's Black Crafting turned him, a wizard of high above average skill and power, though not extraordinarily so, into a most feared warrior. His clothing was of the finest quality, enchanted to stay dry and cool and never rip or tear in addition to having many powerful dark shielding spells crafted into them, of particular note being an enchantment that made the man, who was of an average height, appear to tower over all that were in his presence. The clothing he wore would become a trend for the modern pureblood's of both England and much of Western Europe.

But Of the truly feared objects he wore were his mask and armor. On his chest the man wore leather armor which was woven so strongly with dark protective spells that it was said to rival the strongest suits of plated goblin armor. It was later named the Raiment of Terror by the American Ministry of Magic. In addition to his leather chest piece Potter wore only one other piece of armor: The Black Mask!

The mask worn by Archibald is considered by many to be the single most powerful piece of enchanted headgear since the time's of The Founders and Rowena's Diadem. Not only did the mask hide the users voice, face, skin, and even eye color, it prevented a Legilimen's from making eye contact for Passive Legilimency and laced every word spoken by the user with powerful compulsion charms that only a skilled Occlumen's would notice and a master would be able to throw off. Similarly though any who _looked_ upon the mask ran the risk of falling into a duel compulsion to make them fear and/or respect it and the person behind it. All of this was in addition to other enchantments to prevent any loss of vision, hearing, or mobility by the wearer and increased night vision and protection against bright lights or blinding curses. The mask has not been moved from its protective placement in the American Ministries Department of Magical Intelligence in the last hundred and fifty years since an incident in the study of the object caused a researcher to commit suicide out of the fear that he was starting to turn Dark.

In addition to his wand The Dark Lord Archibald carried two other weapon's: a large knife and cane. The knife was another one of Archibald's masterpieces, holding several powerful enchantments. Beyond the standard never dull and strengthening charms Potter included Charms on the blade that prevented any form of magical from sealing or healing a wound made by the blade. Even without such an enhancement to the blade the weapon would have been deadly in the Dark Lords hands, as it would cut through bone, cartilage, leather, and wood as cleanly and easily as any blade would flesh, often times being used to sever the hands and sometimes heads of those prisoners who they would either allow to be freed, seeing no need and having not enough manpower to imprison the young, infirmed, or elderly or killed, such as squib's, British muggle-born's found in the fighting, or the wizards.

In addition to these much more lethal uses were two other types of spells embodied in the blade: A simple paralyzation spell in the very tip of the weapon, and several torture spells in the metal itself. Within the first three years of fighting Archibald found need to gather information from local witches and wizards who had began to hide themselves among the muggles. So was begot Deleotis! A mere prick of the blade would cause great aches and pains that the victim would be unable to move to soothe or treat, an inch in and the stab victim received pain like lightning in their bodies. Three inches in and the weapon released the power of the Cruciatus Curse. Deleotis was one of only five objects ever created that were able to harness the magic of the Unforgivable's, along with it's brother's the Rod of Dominion and the Chain's of Ramse's, the Death Ray of Archimedes', and the Devil's Claw, a relic of the Spanish inquisition, (a Cat's Paw that tortured the victim as well as sliced away that them).

But no other object created by the Black Crafter was more feared or powerful as his cane. Experts the world over travel to study the focus, the cap of the cane, and have not been able to even come close to recreating the wonder that is Archibald Black Crafters weapon of choice. Through intensive study many secrets of the weapon have been uncovered though. The closest comparison of the object would be towards a staff or wand, though one does not use it in the same manner, save for the use of Latin and Greek words to activate spells that have been embodied in the mysterious statuette that are then powered by the magic of the holder or the wood holding it up. Hundreds of spells have been uncovered as being stored in the object, ranging from basic fire spells to the darkest and strongest of Necromantic spells and thousands are said to be there, unknown to Unspeakables until such a time as either a codex is discovered or they are stumbled across.

But mere words cannot express how powerful the object was, with it Archibald Potter was able to overpower and out maneuver foes with twice the skill, power, and experience he had by requiring him to back the power and incantation's for the spells.

In the end though it was all for naught, as the forces of the Black Crafter were soon out maneuvered until the point where they were forced into a final confrontation in a South Carolina based Fort that was being visited by the Dark Lord and relatively few of his men. There they were attacked by a larger and determined group of Colonial Wizards and Witches who attacked and nearly brought down the Fort around Potter's head. It was there, surrounded by the dead British soldiers that the final magical battle of the Revolutionary War would be fought. All too soon the men he had brought with him were cut down, one of his trusted confidants captured, and the Dark Lord himself surrounded and facing off against the three strongest witches and wizard that were on the opposing side.

In the end, for all powers held within his cane and Deleotis, and for all the protection's offered to him by the Black Mask and the Raiment of Terror, The Dark Lord Archibald Black Crafter killed by a simple cutting curse that struck the unprotected flesh of his neck, leaving all of his valuable artifacts undamaged and mostly unstained.

After Archibald's death his 'army' fell apart, with none of them able to decide who would lead while the southern colonies slowly began to be taken over by the rebel's. With the fall of the Colonies and the rise of the new American Nation on its way the families returned to Britain once more, where they were imprisoned until the intervention of King George III, who officially pardoned all parties involved and granting them the titles of Lord's, despite the loss of the Colonies, in honor of his fallen friend.

Of the houses that fought in the War of Terror, one house was lost completely, while others were reduced to few in numbers, the Potter family in particular being reduced to one son of Archibald. The Malfoy's, who now held titles in both England and France had a short period of prominence thanks to the peace keeping efforts between France until the start of the French Revolution, when all of their attention was needed just to hold onto their lands and possession's. The Gaunt's, who's numbers were greatly severed by the fighting, retreated to their lands in England, soon isolating themselves from even the rest of the magical world , to the point where it is not known whether or not there are any of that line remaining. The Greengrass family was the least effected of the five families that made the center of the British coalition, their numbers staying safely high and their fiscal might only helped by the addition of the titles they received. The Black's, who's numbers were the greatest of all the houses to start with, held firm through the war, collecting many of the Black Crafter's artifacts, which is partially attributed to the increasing signs of madness within the family in the past two hundred years, though there is no definite proof to back this claim.


	6. The Wizard without a Wand

**Hey, AN: so a squib Harry fic, hope you like it. A big shout out to Jobob and her fic "Harry Potter and the Wait, Scratch That" for for giving me the idea for replacing 'The-boy-who-lived' with a much better, and easier to write name.**

_**The Wizard Without a Wand**_

"_Yur a Wizard Harry!"_

Those words still echoed through the mind of the young man, only eleven that morning, that walked into Ollivanders' wand shop.

A WHOLE new world! Full of Magic and great and wonderful things awaited him. He couldn't wait to experience it all.

It had actually come as quite a surprise to him. His Aunt and Uncle, the Dursly's, had never once mentioned to him about being a Wizard or, more importantly to him, that his parents had been a Witch and Wizard, respectively.

No, all Harry James Potter had been told of his parents was that they had been drunks who died in a _terrible_ car crash when he was fifteen months old. That his father was a worthless bum, who had never carried a job in his life. And finally: Do not ask questions about those Freaks!

That had actually been their name for _him_ for the ten years he had lived with the Dursly's. All in all it seemed a little backwards: _they_ called him a Freak, _they_ made him do all the work around the house, _they_ made him cook and clean and sleep under the stairs at night with hardly enough food to live on. To him it seemed like _they_ were the ones a little bit… freakish. Not that he would ever call them that, them or anyone else for that matter; he _knew_ how terrible a thing it was.

But, that was all in the past now. He had been given Dudley's second room, told that he wouldn't be working the gardens around the house as much either, and, as far as he could tell, they probably wouldn't have him cooking every meal for fear of the "freaks spying on us!"

In all honesty, if Harry was true to himself, he had never suspected a thing! Magic wasn't something everyone could do, and he most certainly never suspected anything. Magic didn't make his hair grow back after Aunt Petunia cute it all off, save a small fringe in the front: a deal of time, nearly a year's worth, is what made _that_ grow back. And Magic had never saved him from being attacked by Dudley or Piers Polkiss, the two that terrorized the entire neighborhood and _especially _Harry.

The only magical thing that he could say that had happened to him was the one time he had talked to a snake, and that was only two weeks before!

… Well, that and apparently surviving some curse when he was too young to remember. There _had_ to have been magic involved then! Apparently it made him, and his scar, quite famous in the wizarding world. The curse that the Dark Wizard Voldemort cast on him _apparently_ bounced back off, and destroyed the man in question. It all seemed kind of wooly to him, but everyone believed it, so he guessed he did too. At least the name they had given him sounded… well, neat: The Electus!

So, after all was said and done, it was with a spring in his step that Harry Potter walked into the wand shop, beginning his first step down a very long road… just not the road he expected.

Walking into the small, dusty shop, long rectangular boxes all over the place, Harry scanned the place taking it in. Even so he was startled when a voice reached him.

"Ah, yes, Harry Potter!" seeing the boy jump and look at the man, who stood in a doorway to the back of the shop, Ollivander chuckled, "I have been expecting you any day now. It seems like only yesterday that your parents walked in here to get _their_ wands. Willow for you mother, ten and ¼, swishy and quite good for charms work if is I remember correctly. While your father favored his eleven inch mahogany wand, a little more powerful than the normal wand and excellent for transfiguration. Of course I say he favored it, but it is the wand that chooses the wizard, after all."

By this point he was standing right in front of Harry, before brushing away a lock of hair and gently touching the scar that rest upon his brow, "And that is where… I am afraid to say I sold the wand that gave you that scar Mr. Potter. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great and terrible things with that wand. Yew, thirteen ½ inches." Seeing the startled look in Harry's eyes he patted the boy on the head, "No need to worry about it, young Electus, The Dark Lord has been gone for a decade now."

Clapping his hands together Ollivander pulled free a measuring tape like those used to measure a person for clothing, "Well, let us get started! Which is your wand arm?" he asked. Harry, not knowing which it would be held up his right, as that was the arm he writes with, "Excellent! Each contains a core of either Dragon heartstring, Phoenix tail feather, or Unicorn hair. Each Ollivander wand us unique, just as no two dragon's, phoenix, or unicorn or tree is the same." By now the man had walked away to grab a white box, his tape measure still measuring, even though the strange old wizard was no longer touching it.

"Ah! Here we go! Ash and Unicorn hair, a little stiff." Handing the wand to Harry, the man looked expectant… then he was frowning. "Give the wand a little twirl, will you?" he asked Harry, who waved the wand around… getting nothing. The frown on Ollivanders face increased before he pulled the wand from Harry's right hand and placed it into his left, asking him to repeat what he just did.

Harry himself was suddenly very nervous under the man's large, bifocaled, eyes. _'What if there was a mistake and I'm NOT a wizard?_' he thought nervously, _'No,NO! That can't be true, I'm a wizard! I got my Hogwarts letter after all! And I'm the Electus, they wouldn't have named me that if I wasn't a wizard.'_

"Mr. Potter? Tell me, do you have your Hogwarts letter on you by any chance?" the man asked quietly, pulling Harry from his nervous thoughts.

"Yes sir!" he said immediately, pulling the thick parchment out of the pocket of his too large pants, eager to prove that, YES, he was a wizard!

The man looked at it briefly, simply confirming that it was the right name, "Tell me, you were able to see the Leaky Cauldron when Hagrid had you in the street outside of it?" he asked once more, pulling free his own wand and waving it over and in front of Harry while mumbling.

"Yes sir!" then, in a much quieter voice, "… Is, Is there a problem Mr. Ollivander Sir?"

The man was quiet for a long few seconds, enough of a pause to give Harry his answer, "No, Mr. Potter, there is no problem… per say. You go find Hagrid and tell him that he needs to get a hold of the Headmaster before he takes you home. I will be contacting the man myself right now to get things sorted out first." And with a quick, "Off you go!" Harry had left the wand shop, back into the strangeness of Diagon Alley.

The poor boy was more than a little overwhelmed; he didn't know what was going on: Why didn't he have a wand? Why did Mr. Ollivander look so upset in there?

He did luck out a touch though, as he saw Hagrid walk into a shop just a little ways down from Ollivanders'.

Making his way through the crowd Harry reached the dark shop, the name sitting above the door: "Eeylops Owl Emporium"

In the front window he could see several owls looking out at him and the other passerby's. Taking a deep breath he walked into the shop, intending on finding Hagrid and relaying the Wand Makers message.

The inside of the shop was especially dark, and quite small. It looked even smaller with the giant of a man named Rubeus Hagrid standing in the middle of it all. Luckily there was only one other girl in the Emporium at the time, a slight red headed girl with her hair tied back into two pigtails, that was looking up at Hagrid in frightened amazement.

Walking up to Hagrid, who was using his height to get a look at the owls nearer the top of the store, Harry pulled on the man's thick jacket sleeve to no avail before yelling out his name, "Hagrid!" he called, making the man jump a little.

"Who said that?" he asked looking around before his eyes rested on Harry, "OH! Harry, you done then lad? Got yur wand you do? I was just looking around here for an owl for you, I was!" he said with a big smile on his jovial face.

For a second Harry was shocked out of his worry and self pity for a moment, "Why would you be getting an owl for me?" he asked, more than a little surprised.

"Why, for your birthday of course! You didn't think I wouldn't get you nuttin for your birthday Harry, did ya? Of course I would!"

"Oh!" he said simply, before remembering what he had come to tell Hagrid. "Um, Hagrid, I have a message for you from Mr. Ollivander." This got the man's attention, "Right, he said you need to get a hold of the Headmaster before you take me home."

"Da Headmaster?" the giant man asked aloud, wonderingly, "Right, well… did he say why?"

"No, but…" Harry stopped here, wondering whether he should tell Hagrid what had happened or not. _'Hagrid hasn't lied to me yet like the Dursly's did, I can trust him for now!'_ "Well, I didn't get a wand, he said he was going to get a hold of the Headmaster himself… Hagrid? Are there wizards that don't use wands?" he asked nervously.

The man looked down at Harry sadly, a single large tear sliding down his large cheek, "No Harry… you need a wand to do magic. Though there are people in the wizarding world who can't use magic… Come on though… Yur… Your Harry Potter!" he said, more confidently, "You are gonna be a _great_ wizard Harry, just like your father was a great wizard and your mother was bloody great witch! Now come on, lets find you a good owl! A good pet can be the best of friends. Why I still remember my first pet, was a spider named Aragog… er, bad example that one. I kinda got in trouble for having the little guy!.

Harry couldn't help but think that MOST animals were probably little to Hagrid. Though, between Hagrid, who knew the shop keeper quite well, and Harry, of whom the man recognized on spotting his scar, Harry was able to get a beautiful snowy owl, whom he named Hedwig, for no cost at all.

It was later, back at the Leaky Cauldron, while Hagrid made a floo call in a privet room, that Harry's nerves came back.

What would happen? How would he go to Hogwarts without a wand? Was he a wizard at all? Worse, what if he had to go to Hogwarts anyways and couldn't cast a single spell! He would be the laughing stock of the whole school! No, the world, after all, he was apparently the 'Electus.' He had asked Tom, the owner of the Cauldron, what the word meant.

"Why, Mr. Potter, it's a Latin word. Mean's Chosen!"

That actually scared Harry a little: he was the chosen! And if he couldn't do magic? Then what was he?

The boy had eventually pulled himself up into a chair in the main room where he had been sitting, petting his new friend and staring at a bunch of pictures on the wall. He could only assume that they were famous witches and wizards that had come to the pub.

He could see one named Albus Dumbledore, a name he recognized from his Hogwarts Letter, smiling at him gently, and another with the name Rita Skeeter, a blond woman who gave a predatory smirk. Then there was Glenda Chittock, Gwenog Jones, Devlin Whitehorn, Derwent Shimpling, another had eight hairy men in the frame while the name read 'The Weird Sisters.'

Harry was finally starting to relax, looking at the different moving pictures, trying to remember the name's, when a young girl's excited yells caught his attention.

"Daddy, Daddy! Guess what? I just saw the Electus at Eyelops'! I was placing that order for the inn's owl's like you asked me! Then this HUGE man walked in. Not two minutes later a little boy he was calling Harry Potter came in too! I saw the scar, it really was him, the Electus!"

Looking over his shoulder with Hedwig, Harry watched the young red haired girl from the Emporium grabbing onto Tom the Barman's arm, speaking quite loudly about seeing him with Hagrid. Harry cringed when he saw a number of people look quite interested in this, more than one running to the entrance to the Alley, no doubt going to the Owl shop to try and get a look at Harry Potter, _The_ Electus.

"Idiots!" he mumbled under his breath, cringing once more when Tom looked up and dragged, whom he supposed was his daughter, towards Harry's table. Lucky for the boy though that his high backed chair was facing away from them, due to his looking at the wall.

"Hannah, dearest." He started, in a kind, yet firm voice, "It's not nice to talk about people like that, whether it's Harry Potter or not! What would you have done had the boy been standing right next to me when you came in, hmm? Would you have yelled your pretty little head off like a fool _then?_ What if he was in the inn when you let off that little spiel, how would you feel then?"

"I… I would have been so embarrassed! I'm sorry daddy, but, I saw him and I got so excited… And I probably would have ended up running off to my room blushing if he was right there with you." Then, quieter, though both Harry and Tom could hear her, "He was kind of cute too." Making a Hidden Harry blush lightly.

Tom laughed at this, "Hannah dearest, you can't go running in and out of the Cauldron yelling about people like that. I would have thought after the Weird Sisters rented us out for a week you would have calmed down a bit."

"I know daddy, but the Weird Sister _aren't _Harry Potter! I've always wanted to meet him, to actually talk to him… Then I saw him and froze up!" Harry could practically hear her blush, and did hear her face land in her hands.

" know that dear… I also know that he was here to get his things for Hogwarts. What would have happened when you met him at school like that?"

"Oh God!"

"That's what I thought." He said, before pulling free a chair right across from Harry, "Now have a seat, there's someone here I would like you to meet… I think the embarrassment your about to go through will be punishment enough."

"Embarrassment? But… _Daddy!"_ she shrieked as he waved his wand, apparently sticking her to the chair, based off her attempts to stand.

"Now be good and don't make a commotion… Mr. Potter, I would be in your debt if you would spend your wait for Hagrid here with my daughter Hannah."

Turning the chair to face the table again Harry came face to face with a beat red Hannah Abbott. She was in his opinion, as she had called him, kind of cute. A slight girl, with a button nose, and her light red hair in two pigtails that rested just past her shoulder.

"Um… Hi?" he said hesitantly, coming out as more of a question than a statement. The girl only seemed to go a darker shade of red, "I um, I remember you from the Emporium… " he commented, putting an arm out for Hedwig, letting her sit on the table, "Did, did you _overhear_ what me and Hagrid were talking about?" he asked, getting a jerky nod from the girl, who was now looking down at her lap. "You know you don't need to be embarrassed." He said, a little more boldly than he felt, due to the girls state of distress, "I'm just like you, you know. Actually, since your father seems to run this place you probably know a lot more about the wizarding world than I do. I mean I always thought I was a… what did Hagrid call em? A Muggle?"

This got the girls attention. As soon as the words were out of his mouth her face sprung up, her wide eye's staring at him, "But your Harry Potter!" she whispered across the table at him, for which he was thankful, "You're the Chosen One! How could you _not_ know about the Wizarding world? Your name is known to every pureblood and half blood in Europe and every muggle-born knows who you are less than a year after coming into our world! How could you have been raised as a muggle?"

Harry actually glared at her, "Because, my mother's sister, and her family, _hated_ magic." He said, getting a gasp from her, "And so they _loathed_ me because of my parents… I… I won't tell you _what_ they did, but they tried to prevent me from being magical at any cost."

Tears formed at the edge of the girls eyes, "But, but your Harry Potter, your-" he cut her off here, glaring again.

"The _Electus?_" he asked sarcastically, feeling the strain of the day on his shoulders, "Why do people expect me to be some kind of super hero?" he asked her earnestly, "I couldn't even get a wand. As far as I can tell I don't even _have_ any magic! Get some other hero, because I won't do it!"

Her face, no longer as red as it had been, was slack jawed at that and he couldn't hear anything from her. For a second he was wondering if she had stopped breathing, before he heard gentle sobs and she hid her face in her arms. Hedwig bit him for making the little girl cry.

Mentally he was kicking himself, _'Well congrat's! You made a young girl cry!'_ he yelled to himself, _'Too bloody absorbed in your own problems you shove your foot in your mouth with the first person your age you might actually be able to befriend!'_

He felt terrible, and only felt worse when the girl got up to try and run to her room, only forgetting the fact that her father had stuck her to the tall chair, making her flip it over.

The instant Tom Abbott took off the sticking charm, having been drawn by the commotion, she stood up and ran to her room.

"I'm so sorry, sir!" he said when Tom looked over to him for an explanation. "I just… I've had a bad day and was over here to be alone. This is my first day in the magical world and it's all so hard to take in. I just shoved my foot in my mouth and out my rear again." Sulking he put his head in his arms.

Propping the chair up again the barkeep sat down for a second, "Well Harry, I don't know what you said, or what has been going on to have you so upset. But, I do know that that girl there has always wanted to meet Harry Potter, a person she practically worshipped. I also know, that if you ask her for forgiveness, and you truly mean it, that she will give it. Think about this as a bridge burnt… But you know the thing about burnt bridges Harry? They can be rebuilt, better and stronger than ever. If and when you _do_ apologize, she most likely won't be a little child looking up to a hero like she was not five minutes ago. She will be a young girl looking _at_ a friend." Standing up once more the man stretched and cracked his back, before looking back down at Harry, "You just think about that Harry. And remember, a little child just hurt a girl's feelings… and not a minute later it was a young boy that realized his mistake and admitted it out loud. Do you understand Harry?"

It took the boy a second before he answered, "I think I do sir… I made a mistake and learned from it. I am sorry… if you could tell her that, and that I'll see her at Hogwarts, please?"

Smirking the man said , "I will lad, though I don't think she'll believe me until she hears the words from you." And with that he walked back over to the bar, pulling free a drink for an old man who was sitting there.

It was another few minutes before Hagrid came back in, looking rather worried. _'Right, part of the reason I snapped Hannah's head off. I'm a non-magical magical-savior!'_ Harry looked up at the man expectantly, watching as his new friend flew up to perch on the man's shoulder.

"Well 'Arry…"started Hagrid, more than a little nervous, "I talked to the Headmaster Dumbledore through the Floo… I'm supposed to take you to Hogwarts right away so they can see what's going on with yur magic." The giant man shuffled his feet nervously, "I promise you Harry, no matter what happens, you'll go to Hogwarts! Even if I need to apprentice you to me. I may not be the smartest man, but it takes a daft hand to do what I do and-"

The man's rambling scared the small boy a little, "Hagrid?" he interrupted, "What's going on? Why wouldn't I go to Hogwarts?" he asked, more than a little fear in his voice.

The large man knelt down in front of Harry, gently putting a hand on the boy's shoulder, "You gotta understand Harry, there are a lot of different kind of people in the world. Witches, Wizards, people like me who aren't allowed to do magic, muggles who simply can't do magic… but then there are those who are born to witches and wizards. Most are like their parents, able to do magic… but some, a very few, are what we call Squib's. They don't get the magic as strong as it could be, not strong enough to use a wand and magic. That's what they think you are Harry, or something similar… I know for a fact that you was doing accidental magic when you were a babe, making yur toy's float, and shocking ol'Peter something bad…"

Harry had stopped listening as Hagrid talked on, leading the boy into the Privet room where he had contacted the professor.

'_A Squib? Is that what I am? Someone born to magical parents and born without the magic? Did the Dursly's actually beat the 'Freak' out of me? But… I thought I was going to be a wizard? I was going to finally get away from them?'_ it was like he had been stabbed, only worse. They had given him hopes and a dream, proved to him that he was special… and they took it away.

Harry dumbly noticed that the room, which had several tables and chairs, was utterly empty otherwise.

"How…?" he started to ask, his voice breaking before he could get any other words out, "How we going to get there?" he asked eventually, though the effort of doing so had broken the dam and he finally started to cry, sobbing as his knee's gave out.

"Shhh… Harry, it's gunna be alright!" he could hear Hagrid saying, picking up his tiny form, holding the boy against his shoulder, "Albus Dumbledore is the greatest Wizard in the world, he'll figure something out.

"But… But I'm not magical!" he pointed out, "Now I won't be a wizard and I'll never be able to get away from the Dursly's and… and…" he cried all the harder.

"Come on now Harry! Do you really think that you'd just be left alone with those monster again because you can't use a rutty wand? Hogwash! You are the son of James and Lily Potter, Harry; you are _going_ to go to Hogwarts, cuz _that's_ where you belong! Let's see Headmaster say otherwise! Great man that Dumbledore, but he isn't the son of James and Lily!" Hagrid waited a few minutes after this, when Harry's sobs started to go away, letting him calm down a bit, "Now wipe yur face off and calm down a bit, cuz yur gunna need to use the Floo for the first time."

"What's the Flu?" the boy asked, wiping his eye's with his overly large sleeve. "I thought that was a kind of sickness."

The large groundskeeper laughed at this, "Not flu, Harry, Floo! F-l-o-o. The Floo is the main means of transportation and fast communication between our kind Harry. Just take some of the powder in the jar next to the fire place and throw it into the fire, then call out ' Hogwarts: Headmaster's Office' then walk into the fire."

Walking over he took a nice handful of the sand like powder, "And it won't burn me?" he asked, looking back at the large man.

"No, No! Go ahead Harry, might get you a bit dizzy and I don't guaranty a steady landing, but it won't hurt you."

Turning back he looked at the low flame that burnt in the large fireplace, before taking a deep breath and throwing the power in, "Hogwarts: Headmaster office!" he yelled, closing his eyes and walking into the now green flames.

The next thing he knew he was spinning, being propelled forward by some unseen and, amazingly, unfelt force. It was like he was sitting there, midair, with no sense of falling and no sense of support either. He almost wished he had dared to open his eyes. And just as fast as the feeling had started, it ended, and the boy found himself taking three awkard steps before tripping over his own feet, having been spit out of a sooty fireplace and on to a cold hard marble floor.

Lifting his dizzy head and grabbing his glasses, which had fallen off his face in the ensuring tumble, Harry looked around the office.

Lucky for him, he decided, there was no one else in the room when he had come through, as such an undignified display would _hardly_ be a good first impression to put on the Headmaster of, what he hoped would be, his new school.

As he was standing up Harry couldn't help but gawk a little at the office. It was a two floor room, with two sets of stairs going along two walls of that were _full_ of books. Near to brimming they were. Between the two staircases was a single desk filled with papers and other such things that one would expect to see on the desk of an important person.

'_Not Paper,'_ Harry noted to himself, _'Parchment. And no pens or pencils either, ink and quills… Oh bugger, I need to relearn how to write basically!'_ he realized, swearing internally. Taking a deep breath he continued his look around the office.

Behind the desk there were portraits; nearly three dozen of them too! He noticed that they moved like the pictures in the Leaky Cauldron did, though some were asleep, a few looking at the boy curiously, Harry even saw a few of them talking to one another.

"So this it the boy then?" "The Electus?" "Nothing but a tiny lad! Is he really eleven?"

That last drew a tiny protest from the boy, "Hey! I just turned eleven today, thank you very much!" he snapped at the picture, a rather chubby and balding old man, with a thick, if short, beard of grey. The picture flushed, whether in anger or embarrassment he knew not.

Looking away from the pictures of the old men and women his eye's drew to other things. Other than the empty bird stand there was a rather large stone basin, filled to the brim with a water like substance. Reminding himself that this was a school for _magic_, he didn't dare touch it.

Along both walls on the bottom floor were spindly tables with nearly a dozen delicate looking instruments of silver. Some of them whirled, others emitted small puffs of smoke, while one made a putting sound. He looked at these with a small smile until the fireplace flared green once more and Hagrid stepped out, Harry's trunk at his side and Hedwig, back in her cage, on top of it.

And not five seconds after the fire flared green did the door to the room open, revealing an incredibly old man dressed in vibrant blue robes, a long silvery beard falling down past his waist tucked into his belt.

"Excellent Hagrid, your both here!" he announced, walking over to the desk, "Minerva and the heads should be here soon."

'O'course Professor." Hagrid said in his thick brogue, reaching a hand out and grabbing Harry's tiny shoulder in his giant hands, pulling the boy to stand in front of him, "Let me introduce you Harry Potter. Harry, this is Headmaster Albus Dumbledore."

The much older man inclined his head a little, looking at Harry with a gentle smile on his face, just beneath his piercing blue eyes. To Harry it looked rather condescending. "Hello Mr. Potter, it's a pleasure to finally meet you again, it has been _far_ too long."

Harry plinked for a second, "When did we meet sir?" he asked, genuinely curious.

The old man's smile grew, his smile became less piercing and more jovial, "Why, I was there the day you were born Harry, and the day that you were brought to your family."

What had started as a happy thought, to Harry, ended at a rather low point, "Oh." Was all he said.

"Fear not Mr. Potter, we will figure out what seems to be wrong here and try and get everything as straightened out as possible." He said before looking back up at Hagrid, "You are _sure_ there was no problems of any kind getting into the Alley? And he could see the Goblin's?"

"Yes sir!" Hagrid answered dutifully. "And I know for a fact he was doing accidental magic when he was but a babe, I was there at the cottage more'en once when 'e did, I was."

"I believe you Hagrid, never fear." The old man said, patting Hagrid's arm gently before walking behind his desk and pulling free his wand, an old looking thing made of elder wood, "Well, I am going to need some advice on this conundrum. Tell me Hagrid, did you know that there is no manual or text for Headmaster to read when they come into the position?" When the giant answered to the negative Dumbledore carried on, tapping four particular paintings, "No, everything a Headmaster needs to know is held in these four paintings that I am activating now. If ever there is something that a school head needs to know about the school or some such problem that the former Heads do not know, they consult these paintings. Good day Helga!" he said to the first of the four paintings to 'wake up.'

The portrait was that of a matronly looking woman, with dark red hair, "Headmaster? Why have you woken me? Is there a problem with the school?" she asked calmly, with concern in her voice.

"No Madam, I simply have a problem that is beyond my knowledge. So I have decided to seek the wisdom of the Founder's."

While Dumbledore went on, talking to the picture's, another two waking in little time, Harry asked his giant friend, "Hagrid? Who are those people that the Professor is talking too? And the other people on the wall there?"

"OH! That's easy Harry." He answered, crouching down next to the nervous boy, "Well that there, the first one, is Helga Hufflepuff, one of the four Founders of Hogwarts. The other one there, the bald man, is Salazar Slytherin, the other woman, who just woke up, is Rowena Ravenclaw, and the last, who's just starting to wake up now, is Godric Gryffindor. They were the four _greatest_ wizards the world had ever known. The others there are the former headmaster's of the school." Hagrid pointed at the bald man that Harry had yelled at earlier, "See that one there, he was my headmaster, Armando Dippet. A right bloody fool that one was."

Harry blinked for a second, "What? I thought you had to be… well, smart to be a Headmaster here?" Dippet was now glaring at the two.

"Yes well, he's the reason I ain't allowed to do magic no more! Kicked me out of the school and snapped my wand without any proof 'sides the testimony of a single boy."

Harry was about to ask what the man had done to get expelled when the door to the office opened once more, letting in two women, a man, and… a dwarf? Maybe he was part goblin? Either way it was a male, and almost a full foot shorter than Harry.

"Ah! Excellent! We are all here now, let us begin." Announced Dumbledore after turning away from the paintings, which were now talking among themselves, when the door had finally closed. Wand still in hand he waved it once, summoning cushioned chairs for everyone there, even a rather large one for Hagrid..

"What is the meaning of this Albus?" came the thick brogue of the green clad woman, looking at Harry interestingly, "I have much work to do with the upcoming first years and meeting with the incoming muggle-born students."

"Minerva, my dear." Dumbledore started, holding a hand out pleadingly before addressing all four teachers, "Professor's Snape, Flitwick, McGonagall, and Sprout," he said as an introduction for Harry's sake, "we seem to have a slight problem of which I believe all four of you should be aware of concerning this young man right here. Mr. Potter, if you would please step forwards?" he asked, coaxing the young boy in front of the four adults.

"What," asked professor Snape smoothly, looking down at Harry strangely, making the boy shrink in on himself, "seems important enough as to break procedure and bring this… child, to Hogwarts before the rest of his year mates?"

"And why did you deem it necessary to awaken us Albus?" asked the painting of Gryffindor, who had only just woken up moments before and had not heard the explanation Dumbledore had given his other three companions, "The wards feel fine, the buildings foundation is solid, I sense that we're not under attack at the moment, and you're not dead. So, I ask again, why have we been woken?"

"Godric, my dear boy, it would appear that we have an issue with Mr. Potter here, and I need to hear from you four whether he is allowed to attend Hogwarts or not."

"And why wouldn't he?" the black haired man asked once more.

"Because it appears that Harry here, is a squib. More importantly than that, he is a squib, who was born a wizard and has since, apparently, had his magic removed, be it by accident or purpose."

"The terms you are looking for, Albus, are Severed and Burned Out." Explained Ravenclaw's painting, looking down at the boy with glowing eye's the color of bronze. Answering the groups unasked question the beautiful woman continued, "A person who has been Severed is, much like this child here, unable to use magic, though it is because someone or something has purposely cut them off from their ability to use magic. For a grown adult wizard it is, ninety-nine percent of the time, lethal and irreversible. As for the boy, he is has Burnt Out his ability to use magic. The difference here is that when one is Severed, it is done purposely, usually as a punishment of the most severe sort. Burning Out is accidental, occurring when someone tries to use too much of their magic all at once, or using it in ways it is not meant to be used. Some witches and wizards have Burned themselves out doing amazing feats of magic, even a few children who do so protecting themselves or others around them. I myself have only ever seen a single person Burn Out, and that was when old Belthazor slew the dragon without his wand… Tell me lad, can you remember any magic that you might have done, something wonderful? Or Strange? I'm sure it would have been noticeable even to your untrained eye's." she ended on a gentle note, turning her attention to Harry instead.

Harry opened his mouth to answer, though he could think of nothing to say, his brow creasing in confusion… He _had_ done magic, right?

Seeing the young boy's struggle Dumbledore answered for him, sparring the poor lad, "I'm afraid that those of us who still live here _do_ know what happened to Harry's magic. I was unaware of the possibilities of Severing or Burning Out a magical's ability to cast spells." Getting confused looks from the paintings, as well as Harry, the older man continued, smiling at the young boy, "To simply put it, when you were very young a powerful wizard was terrorizing the world. This man went by the name of the Dark Lord Voldemort." One of the witches present, the more portly Sprout, gave a little gasp, though everyone who wasn't in a frame visibly flinched or squirmed uncomfortable, the dark haired Snape even grasping his arm out of habit.

"Voldemort's reign of terror was just that, terrible. It has been said that even the Czar's of Magical Russia weren't as dark or sadistic as the Dark Lord was. For a whole decade Voldemort terrorized Britain and Ireland, even extending his reach into parts of France and Eastern Europe. And then, one eve, he disappeared." The man stopped and looked at Harry wonderingly, pondering to himself briefly until the young Potter asked him where Voldemort had gone, "That is the thing, Mr. Potter, nobody _truly_ knows what happened to the Dark Lord, as there are is only one person who survived that night that he disappeared."

"Who, sir?" the green eyed boy asked, mystified and horror struck, already knowing the answer but needing to hear it said aloud by the man.

"Why… _you_ Harry." The man responded, his eyes twinkling with an inner light, "From the little that we know of the night he disappeared is that he came to your house and… well he killed your parents Harry, first your father, then your mother… and then he turned his wand on you we presume, casting a powerful piece of Dark magic known as the Killing Curse. The only thing is, that it didn't work, Voldemort, who had made use of the spell hundreds of times, cast it upon you, only to have his curse strike back at him, leaving nothing remaining of his body or magic, his wand the only thing remaining, telling us that he was there…"

Instantly the boy's hands flew to his forehead, where there rested a lightning bolt shaped scar. Bringing his eyes up to the headmasters with an unspoken question, getting a nod in response.

"Albus…" Hufflepuff asked incredulously, looking rather wide eyed at Harry, "Are you trying to say that this… this child has survived the _Killing Curse?_"

Slytherin looked at Harry intensely, as if studying him while Gryffindor seemed to be ponderingly idly; Lady Ravenclaw's brow was furrowed and was whispering to herself brief bits of strange formula's and lore that Harry couldn't understand.

"Indeed, since that Halloween night Harry has become a symbol in the British Magical world, known to all as the Electus and spoken of by children as The-Boy-Who-Lived. And this, I believe, is the event that Burned Out Mr. Potter's magic."

For a moment everyone was quiet, observing the raven haired boy.

"Not his magic, Albus." Was the first noise, coming from Salazar, getting a owlish blink in response from the elderly Headmaster, "His magic is still there, probably weaker than what it should be for someone his age, but there none the less."

"But I thought you said it was burned out?" asked Sprout with a confounded look on her face, getting a roll of the eyes from the founder.

"_No,_ you dunder-head, his magic is not burned out, because a person's magic cannot be destroyed."

"Now see here! She said-"

Glaring at the woman the man hissed out his response, "SHESAIDthat he has burned out his _ability_ to cast spells… '_Incompetent woman, and she calls herself a witch, let alone a professor at MY school?'"_

Frowning at the man, who he internally thought was being very rude, he asked, "So then… I _am_ a wizard?"

"Ha! No, child, you are still very much a squib." Was the decisive and condescending tone of, not Slytherin, but Gryffindor, "I assure you, besides a few left over gifts from your brief stint as a magical being, you have no magic at all!"

Getting angry now the young Potter boy glared at the painting, "That's not true!" he yelled, his green eyes burning as he looked at the sneering founder, "I CAN do magic!"

"Harry…" was the calming tone of the Headmaster, laying his hand on the boy's shoulder, "If your ability to do magic was destroyed, then I'm afraid Godric is right."

"But…" was the boys defenseless cry, "But I _have _done magic, just two weeks ago!"

"Please!" came a snort from both Godric and the dark haired professor.

"Severus!, please!" came the Dumbledore, glaring at the professor, "Let the boy speak." More gently then he asked Harry, looking into his eye's, "What did you do that you think was magic?"

Looking at the professor, eye's burning from holding back tears, he answered in a small voice, "I spoke to a snake on my cousin's birthday."

This seemed to shut everyone up, though their mouths all opened, save for three fourths of the Founders.

"'_Truly boy? How did it happen, tell us about it?'"_ Slytherin asked him, getting odd looks from the teachers in the room, to Harry's befuddlement, _"'Look at me as you tell us, speak only to me.'"_

Confused, and looking so, Harry did as requested, relaying to the founder how he had gotten to go to the zoo, and the boa that he had seen there, speaking to it and learning it had been bred in captivity rather than out in the wild.

"Amazing boy, simply amazing!" the founder congratulated him, his eye's practically glowing with pride at Harry, "Another true Parseltongue… The boy has MY vote to stay in the school, no matter _what_ his ancestry."

Looking around the room Harry took in the faces, an angry Gryffindor, several pale professor's, and a contemplative Headmaster and Founders. "What did I do?" he asked, "What is a Parseltongue?"

It was a minute before anyone spoke and by the time they did he had been tempted to ask again, "A Parseltongue, Potter," was Snape's response, "is a powerful gift that is passed down through a person's bloodline, giving them the ability to speak to all serpents, even granting some small form of control over them."

Harry wasn't satisfied with that answer though, "What aren't you telling me about it?" he asked, looking to the Headmaster and Salazar, one of whom was silent, the other just grinning evilly, "What is it?"

"Voldemort" Dumbledore announced, making the professors jump, "was a Parseltongue. He was a very Dark Wizard and an Heir of Slytherin… and because of him many consider it a Dark Gift, rather than just another magical ability… Truth be told I am not so uncertain that it _isn't_ a Dark ability, as the one other time that I spoke to Salazar and mentioned it, he refused to comment." Dumbledore Glared at the painting, getting a hissing response that Harry could understand.

"'_Find my Chamber of Secret's, Heir, and all shall be revealed. Only there will I feel safe enough to speak to you of our legacy, only there will your true power to uncovered. So was this spoken to me, so I speaketh to thou, Find my Chamber of Secret's, and all shall be revealed.'"_ The old painting winked at the boy then, _"'Just try not to let these Dunderheads know what I said.'"_

"While I find this all _very_ entertaining." Godric interrupted angrily, "It has nothing to do with the fact that, while one gift of magic seeped through, the boy is simply _not_ a wizard anymore and CANNOT attend Hogwarts!"

"Please!" Hufflepuff snorted, "The boy is every bit as magical as you or me, he simply cannot cast spells!"

"Indeed, while I am loath to agree with a Gryffindor, let alone the first one, I must say that not being able to do magic will pretty much prevent the boy from attending."

"Hush child!" was Ravenclaw, looking down at the professor with scolding eyes, "The adults are trying to speak." This made the man flush in anger, though the blue clad woman barely noticed, "Now how will a little thing like that prevent him from attending? Three classes, three, that is all that actually requires a wand. Defense, Transfiguration, and Charms. Provided the Care for Magical Creatures class is still taught to proper way, which it is, yes?" she said, looking over at Dumbledore who nodded graciously, "Well there you go then!"

"NO! No, no, no!" was Godric's response, "I will sooner crash the wards than allow a magicless student walk these Hollowed Halls!"

"Lucky for _us_ then, that you cannot touch the wards if the three of us wish you not to." Slytherin responded with a smirk, "Besides, you never traveled as far as me or Rowena here. For most wizards, losing the ability to cast spells is the end for them, but for one as young as Harold here… There are alternative magic's that he can use that will make him as good a wizard as there ever was."

"Oh?" came the general question from all save Ravenclaw and Slytherin himself.

"Tell me, who here has ever heard of Legilimency?" the man asked, making Snape sit up a little taller, "I see, or Occlumency? Pyromancy and Telemancy? Animagi or Metamorophmagi? Parseltongue, Rune's, Arithmancy, Astronomy, Astrology, Aural Compulsion's, Meteorology, Illusionary powers, History, Potion's, low level Alchemy, most Herbology, FENCING! The boy is FAR from being unable to learn anything here, Not to mention that, even if he cannot _cast_ a spell, does not mean he cannot learn to recognize one, or even learn other ways defend against them!"

Glarring that the other three paintings, two of whom were looking at Salazar impressed, he said his final piece, "And I quote: 'All one needs is a mind, the ability to see magic, and an acceptance letter to attend Hogwarts.' If you three shoved that down MY throat a thousand years ago, then I get to shove it down HIS now!"

Getting a few, "Here here! " from the two female paintings Salazar looked over at Gryffindor's painting, lifting a questioning eyebrow, "Fine!" the former man growled out, before turning his now glowing golden eyes to Harry, "But I shall be watch you young Potter. If you come to this school then I will be watching you, waiting for you to make a mistake. I may not care about the blood that runs through your vein's, but I have seen what those without magic do to those with it, and I shall defend my castle even after my own death!" and with that the man stalked out of his portrait, wandering off to a different painting not in the room.

"Well then!" came Dumbledore's surprised interruption, looking over the remaining gathered warily, "While I alone reserve judgment on whether Harry may attend of not at this point, I believe I shall aim for a general consensus. So heads of house, what say you?"

"Absolutely not!" was Snape's only remark, knowing he was going to be outvoted anyway.

"Of course, of course!" was Flitwick's response, looking quite excited, "Remarkable, I've learned more here than I have in the past year of study alone. Watching the development of young Harry here will be quite remarkable… I'm not even sure I am familiar with all the different forms of magic that Salazar mentioned, I look forward to finding out more of this… Meteorology, quite soon. I DO love a good meteor shower! And do be sure to let me help with your research Mr. Potter, no matter what you do…!"

Professor Sprout looked at the boy more wonderingly, "A child, born into magic, losing his parents and then having his power just out of reach, without touching it for ten years… I cannot begin to wonder what it is like… And yet you are here and may lose the ability to effectively join the magical world now… Hard work has brought you here Mr. Potter, and now we shall see if hard work will be enough. You have my approval, though I pray it is the right thing to do."

Lastly was the green clad Professor McGonagall. She took a single long look at the boy, making him slightly uncomfortable, before nodding her head, "You have your father's hair and chin, but the cheeks and eye's… the eye's are all Lily's… I would very much like to have you here Mr. Potter." Harry smiled at this, "I vote against having him join Hogwarts." And his smile was gone, looking at her with wide eyes. "You are your parents child… and just like I would hate to see them suffer, I do _not_ want to see you suffer, as I know you would, no matter what house you were placed in. The magical world we live in now is not a nice one, despite what some would say. I am sorry Mr. Potter."

Turning his eyes to the Headmaster, Harry looked on and waited with baited breath…

"What, Mr. Potter, would you do if I said no? Professor McGonagall does bring up some valid points, as did Godric. You would be missing three classes, all of which you would be unable to fully participate in. On top of that you would need to hire special tutors to teach you alternative magic's that Salazar mention, since most of those are not offered to students here. Not to mention what others would say or do because you do not have magic… Are you willing to risk all of that heart ache and go through all of that work when you do not even know what the end result will be?"

Harry was quiet for a few moments, wondering what he should say, looking at each person and painting in the room one by one…

"I have to professor." He answered with downcast eyes, "I… I AM magical, and I don't know what waits for me if I don't come here to learn either." Looking up at the kindly old man he spoke with more passion than a child should have, "I guess… I guess when you look at my magic, you see a burnt bridge. I can't cross it anymore to cast spells. But the thing about burnt bridges is, they can be rebuilt, and it doesn't have to be the same way either. Just because I can't cast spells, doesn't mean I can't use my magic, like Mr. Slytherin said, I just have to use it a different way, built stronger than it was before."

And that was all he had to say, though everyone, even professor Snape, looked impressed by what he had said. Eventually Albus answered, looking at Harry with kind eye's, "That was a _very_ wise thing to say Harry." He said, making the boy blush in embarrassment, "Very wise and very true… Did you know that the root word for the word wizard is Wise… and I have a feeling, Mr. Potter, that you will be a very good wizard one day."

"Welcome," the Headmaster said, standing and offering his hand to the young man, "To Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry!"


End file.
